


Infectious Dream

by kasviel



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:40:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26154349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasviel/pseuds/kasviel
Summary: The sequel to my other Resident Evil fanfic, "Brilliant Minds". As William Birkin and Albert Wesker grow closer, Spencer tries to refuel their former rivalry. Meanwhile, Alexia Ashford has taken up her family's legacy in Antarctica, leaving the Arklay Lab on its own.
Relationships: William Birkin/Albert Wesker
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Prologue: This Disease...**  
  
For some years, the name 'Arklay' had been synonymous with peace. The deep, sprawling forest buried in the mid-west of the United States had been a haven for man and nature alike since before anyone could remember. The lush forests bred beautiful animal and plant life, a rare thing to find in this modern world, and attracted many human visitors who longed for a change from the rush of modern civilization.  
  
However, it would not always be this way. A time would come when the shadows of the looming mountain range would breed terror instead of serenity. It would be a terror thicker than the rocky peaks of the mountains, and colder than the air of the highest point. It would transform the forest from a retreat to a place to retreat from, a forest of nightmares that could only exist in a world where man dared to steal the power of God.  
  
That world is this world. As the second turn of the century looms in the near future, man will try to claim the power denied to them the day of their creation. Whether they are trying to claim the power to create or destroy is uncertain. But one thing is certain. They will succeed, and in their success they will fail.  
  
And that all began here, in the mountains of Arklay, when two years ago a pair of young geniuses had been flown to the Spencer Mansion. Albert Wesker, 18 at the time, and William Birkin, a mere 16, had been employed by the pharmaceutical company Umbrella to conduct disease research. No, not to search for a cure, oddly enough, but to search for a disease. **The** disease, the ultimate bio-weapon-creating infection, the T-Virus.  
  
Since Birkin and Wesker had come to the Spencer Mansion Research Facility, the experiments had progressed rapidly. It had been two years now, and they had reached Phase 2 of their research plan. Their first bio-weapon, the Zombie, was nearly complete.  
  
But not only death was progressing in the cold laboratories of Umbrella's mansion. Among the diseases, a very infectious one had taken both head researchers hostage. It had no physical effects on either one, for they still functioned and looked as always. In fact, they functioned much better due to the disease. It had strengthened them.  
  
The disease was love.  
  
William Birkin and Albert Wesker had surrendered to their feelings for one another. Their common interest in death and destruction held them together quite well, and they each learned off of each other. Not to say they didn't have their competitions and arguments occasionally, but for the most part they were happy together—until now.

  
  
  
  


  
  


  
  


**Chapter One: Rivalry Brewing**  
  
**December 24, 1980**  
  
Albert Wesker did not have fond memories of Christmas Eve. Even now, at twenty, the past still haunted his mind. As he walked through the Grand Hall of the Spencer mansion alone, Wesker heaved a heavy sigh. He detested weakness. He loathed memories. Yet he was helpless against them sometimes. He had matured over the past two years, but parts of him remained untamed. He wondered what it would take to rid himself of those softer parts.  
  
Wesker climbed the long, carpeted stairs of the Grand Hall to the second floor. He paused for a moment at the top of the stairs, gazing out the window at the snow-covered balcony outside. It was in this spot two years ago that he had explained his past to Birkin. He'd confessed Spencer's raping him, his pain, his desire for revenge...and Birkin had knelt beside him as he crumbled...and comforted him.  
  
Wesker twitched as he recalled this, caught between disgust at himself and love for Birkin. He did love William, difficult as admitting it still was. He was very aware of the fact that he could lose Birkin at any turn of any day, or that they both may die eventually. Why did those facts not concern him more? Was he pragmatic, or was the thought of losing William so painful that he blocked it out? Was he strong or dangerously weak?  
  
Wesker slid his shades further up the bridge of his thin nose. He turned from the window and continued to climb to the second floor. He assured himself that he was apathetic to their precarious situation. He had to be, given the nature of their work. Though he loved William, he knew they may both be living on borrowed time. They were scientists heading Umbrella's research for the ultimate bio-weapon, it would be stupid to let love lead to fear.  
  
The world was changing, Wesker thought as he reached the second floor. It was going to be 1981 soon. In 19 more years, it would be the next century. In 20 more years, it would be the next millennium. This new world needed new power, and Wesker and Birkin were creating that power with their own hands. There was no love, no emotion in the world that would justify throwing away such an opportunity.  
  
Wesker smirked as he walked the halls, his heavy boots clomping on the rugs. The ultimate bio-weapon. That was their goal, and it was a fantastic one. It meant holding the world's greatest power in their hands. But there was another goal Albert desired: revenge.  
  
Wesker glanced at a portrait in the hall as he made his way to his room. It was a portrait of an older man with a stern, evil face and inhuman eyes. Wesker's eyes narrowed behind the dark lenses of his shades.  
  
The man in the portrait was Sir Oswell E. Spencer, Umbrella's founder and the mansion's namesake. Yes, revenge, Wesker thought as he stared at the man's hateful face. Spencer was the only person who had ever defiled the proud young man before, and since then he'd been determined to destroy Spencer and his company one day.  
  
But before revenge came knowledge. Spencer was playing everyone as marionettes, putting together pieces of a puzzle only he could decipher. Wesker tried every day he could to attain information about Spencer's ultimate plan, though it often felt like he was running in circles. The facility, Wesker, Birkin, Umbrella … they were all products of Spencer's mind in a way, and they were all being led somewhere.  
  
Somewhere...  
  
Wesker clenched his fist. He had no idea where he was being led. To glory, to death, or both … only Spencer knew. But no, he _had_ to find out. He **would** find out.  
  
One day.  
  
Wesker sighed again. For now, it was him and Birkin and their research. Nothing more could be done. He had to be patient and forget Spencer for now. Otherwise, he'd lose focus and slip into whatever doom Spencer had waiting for him.  
  
Wesker finally reached his and Birkin's room. It was all about the disease now, the weapon. Christmas Eve or not, he was going to resume his research immediately.  
  
Running a hand through his neat blond hair, Wesker opened the door and went inside. The moment he entered, his eyes fell on Birkin, who was standing before one of the desks in the room. Then, he noticed what was on the desk. As if a test to his plans to work, Birkin had set up a few bottles of wine and was burning two candles. There was even a fire lit in the fireplace. Wesker drew a breath.  
  
"What _is_ all this, Birkin?" he asked.  
  
"An anniversary, and Christmas Eve," Birkin replied. "I'm not fond of taking breaks, but let's relax just a little bit tonight."  
  
"No," Wesker said simply. He shut the door behind himself and walked over to his desk. Frowning, he pushed aside the champagne and wine and glasses.  
  
"Well then, let's celebrate." Birkin stubbornly poured Wesker a glass of champagne and then one for himself. "To the completion of Phase 1."  
  
Wesker was at a loss. Birkin was never put off by his lack of enthusiasm, not even by his outright protesting. In fact, William enjoyed putting Wesker through these little 'tests'. He would surprise Wesker and then studiously watch his reaction. Sometimes Wesker felt more like a project than a lover. One thing he had learned during the two years was that Birkin could be as cold as he was, despite his placid demeanor.  
  
"Come on," Birkin prompted him. "Join me."  
  
"Birkin, I said—"  
  
Birkin put the glass in Wesker's hand and then raised Wesker's arm.  
  
"To the completion of Phase 1," Birkin said for both of them. He released Wesker and downed most of the contents of his own glass.  
  
Wesker sighed and followed his lead. Birkin's bossy attitude annoyed him sometimes. Occasionally, it became unclear exactly which of them was in charge.  
  
"There, we had a toast," Wesker said now. "Can I resume my work?"

He turned his back on Birkin and went back to their research papers.  
  
Birkin just smiled. He had cracked the ice that frosted Wesker's personality, so he no longer took his coldness seriously. He put down his glass of champagne and watched his partner for a moment. He was quiet just long enough to let Wesker think that he planned to leave him alone. Then, he put his hands on Wesker's shoulders. Wesker tensed, raising his head slightly for a moment, and then resumed ignoring Birkin. William went on to massage Wesker's shoulders.  
  
"Birkin, I really wish you would **stop doing that** ," Wesker finally said.  
  
"Why?" Birkin asked innocently. "Does it unnerve you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Ah, I see." Birkin leaned his face down until it was beside Wesker's ear. "You're getting warm, aren't you?"  
  
"Shut up." Wesker turned his face. "I regret the day I ever let you kiss me."  
  
"Why? We're a perfect match, don't you think?" Birkin whispered into Wesker's ear. "We're both young and brilliant and ambitious. We'd both sacrifice anything to achieve our goals. We're both separated from the rest of the world by our genius. It's only natural for two such people to fall in love."  
  
"Love is a very unscientific word," Wesker replied.  
  
"I only mean it in the loosest sense possible," Birkin explained. "We both appreciate each other, and we're chemically attracted to one another, but neither of us would die for the other. Nor would we think twice about sacrificing the other should we have to."  
  
"And you still think it qualifies as love?"  
  
"Close enough."

Birkin bit Wesker's ear. Wesker turned to him, staring at the younger man through his shades. For a moment he pondered whether Birkin's coldness was an act or not. Then, he caught the look in the young man's eyes. No, it was not an act. He was as pragmatic as Wesker was, though more deranged. Wesker decided that he would have to never take his eyes off him, lest he become the mad scientist his obsessive nature sometimes threatened to make him. He had underestimated him once before, but never again.  
  
"And that doesn't bother or scare you?" Wesker asked. "That I may turn on you any moment? That I may take your life one day?"  
  
"No. I don't see either thing happening," Birkin said. "My goal is to complete my disease. Your goal is the ultimate bio-weapon, and Spencer. I doubt our ideals will ever conflict. Even if they do, I would never have any reason to go against you, nor the desire."  
  
"Because we're lovers?"  
  
"Because it would be unnecessary conflict." Birkin put his legs around Wesker's waist, sitting on his lap in the chair. He ran his hands through Wesker's blond hair. "As long as you never think of going against me, I will not go against you." He kissed Wesker smoothly. "And if you do … I will kill you." He kissed him again.  
  
"Not if I kill you first," Wesker replied after the kiss. He played with Birkin's fine hair for a moment, pondering the youth. Did he realize what they were discussing? Did he think it was a game, or did he simply not care whether it was real or not?  
  
Birkin just laughed. "That will never happen."  
  
He kissed Wesker again. As he pressed Birkin's face closer to his own, Wesker wondered why Birkin said such a thing. He sounded so sure, but how could he be? No one could tell the future.  
  
"I would make myself a Zombie sooner than I'd let anyone kill me," Birkin elaborated between kisses. "If I am destined to die, it will not be alone. Mmm. No, Albert. If I die it will be on my own terms."  
  
Wesker stood up with Birkin wrapped around him. William kept his legs around Wesker's waist, and buried his face in Wesker's neck, all his sandy blond hair falling over his young face.  
  
"You are a mad scientist, William Birkin," was all Wesker told him.  
  
"And here I was thinking only commoners mistook genius for insanity," Birkin laughed. "It's an ignorant thing for you to say, Albert."  
  
Wesker lay Birkin down on the bed. Birkin stared up at him, his smile recklessly happy. He put his arms around Wesker's neck as Wesker climbed over him.  
  
"You're calling me ignorant?" Wesker asked.  
  
"You did call me mad."  
  
"You think you're smarter than I am," Wesker observed. “Not just more intellectually intelligent. You think you're superior to me overall, don't you?”  
  
Birkin just laughed. He slid Wesker's sunglasses off and bit the stem. His eyes glinted in the candlelight, watchful and eager. He traced the contours of Wesker's face with one finger.  
  
"You are brilliant, Wesker, brilliant," he said. "Didn't I say we were both genius?"  
  
"But you think that you're the better of us, don't you?" Wesker insisted.  
  
"I think—" Birkin kissed him. "—you are paranoid."  
  
Wesker decided to leave it at that. Birkin was clearly not planning on answering his questions. Wesker didn't need confirmation, he knew exactly which of them Birkin thought was the best. _That arrogance is his worst trait,_ Wesker thought. He kissed Birkin roughly, gripping his hair in a fist. _He should remember which of us is the adult and which is still a bratty, smug child. Eighteen or not, he still acts like a smug little boy most of the time. Being a child genius spoiled him rotten._  
  
Birkin could tell Wesker was irritated but he didn't care. He could not help stimulating Wesker in different ways to see how he reacted. No one else had ever seen Wesker this vulnerable, not even Spencer, who had had to force Wesker's intimacy. Only William had solved the problem of the seemingly invulnerable Albert Wesker, and he delighted in continuing to bring out various sides of the man. That was not to say William did not respect him. Wesker was almost as brilliant as William, and he was superior in physical prowess and dealing with worldly matters. William would never allow himself to be with a man that he did not admire.  
  
Wesker was kneeling over William, indelicately pulling his clothes off. The warmth of the room sank into William's bare skin and he sighed in pleasure. Outside, he could hear the winter wind howling around the mansion. He was almost asleep when Albert turned him over onto his stomach. He positioned him to his liking, careless of how hard he gripped and pulled William into place. William did not mind the harshness—in fact, he liked it. He had never been physically powerful. It was good to know that he had a lover with the strength he lacked. Wesker was the only one that had ever been able to stimulate him until his mind finally turned off, until he was blissfully unaware of everything but pleasure.  
  
They were truly a perfect match.

☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣

  
  
Wesker and William became a tangle of legs and arms on the bed. Birkin's cries were muffled by Wesker, who had a hand pressed to his mouth tightly. Yet even with the youth being silenced, they were being heard—and watched.  
  
Far away, back in Raccoon City's Umbrella headquarters, Sir Oswell Spencer was watching the two boys on a monitor. He ran a hand over the image of the two on the screen.  
  
"How happy you seem, Albert," he murmured, "with your little toy Birkin. But we both know how discontent you must be. It has been two years, and your life remains on a plateau even as your research progresses. For all you know, you know nothing."  
  
Spencer sipped a glass of wine.  
  
"And now this small competition from Birkin," he said. "Birkin, who thinks he is the superior. That will eat away at you from now on, Albert, even as you enjoy his body."  
  
Another voice spoke from the shadows.  
  
"Sir, are you implying that you would want them to fight?"  
  
Spencer replied without taking his eyes off the monitor, "They have been rivals since the day they met. It is only natural for two egos such as theirs to clash occasionally. And that is fine." He sipped his wine again. "As long as they are competing, they will progress rapidly. Besides, with the confusion a such a relationship will cause Albert, he will soon come back to me of his own free will."  
  
"Do you really want him around?" asked the other person. "Asking questions?"  
  
"His questions are inevitable, but he will not get answers until I am ready to give them," replied Spencer. "With Albert trying to complete his research, keep an eye on Birkin, and figure me out, he will be too busy to really notice any of my plans, even if they are being orchestrated before his very eyes. You see, Wesley?"  
  
The man stepped out of the shadows. He was one of the Spencer Mansion's oldest staff members, Wesley Smithe. He had hated Wesker and Birkin since the day they'd met, especially Wesker. Now, he smiled.  
  
"I see," he said. "You will keep Wesker so confused that he will never be able to accomplish more than he has to. While his professional progress will go on we will use it for our own benefit, while his personal life will be too muddled for him to act on his suspicions of you."  
  
"Exactly," Spencer said. "So, if you would not mind fueling the fire, Wesley..."  
  
"Of course not, sir," Wesley said. "Regardless of their silly sex games, their rivalry will soon take center stage."  
  
"I would appreciate it if it did, Wesley." Spencer nodded. "Besides, Wesker and Birkin will very soon be faced with a period of no advancement. I wouldn't want Wesker to get bored while Birkin is useless."  
  
"Useless?"  
  
"Do not expect much progress in the research this summer," Spencer replied. "They are moving much too fast. We are going to slow them down a bit."  
  
"But sir—"  
  
"It is now time to focus on our Antarctic facility," Spencer cut him off. "And we shall very soon."  
  
"And the Spencer Mansion? Wesker and Birkin?"  
  
"They will be dormant for a while," Spencer said. "During that time, I will enjoy playing with Albert."  
  
"I see, sir." Wesley turned to the camera, glaring at Wesker. It didn't matter how cocky the boy was, he thought, Spencer always had the upper hand.


	2. Love, Competition

**January 3, 1981**  
  
Time passed as normal. Today, Wesker woke up to a persistent tugging of his arm. He opened his blue eyes sleepily. Birkin was standing over him, wearing only his white lab coat. He looked very cute, but Wesker was not pleased to be jarred awake.  
  
"Birkin, what _is_ it?" he grumbled.  
  
"We slept in, and we have testing to do very soon," the young scientist replied. "Get up. We'll only make it if we both get dressed at the same time."  
  
"Damn."  
  
Wesker stumbled out of bed, stretching. His jeans hung low on his otherwise bare, tall body. As he stretched his arms, Birkin put a hand on his strong chest. Wesker gave him a look.  
  
"Just thinking that it is a pity you're so important, you'd make an excellent test subject," Birkin said with a smile.  
  
"Get the hell away from me," Wesker muttered. He grabbed Birkin by the arm and flung him to the side. He did not like how sincere William's comment had been.  
  
"Well, you would."  
  
"Don't be a brat."  
  
Wesker went into the bathroom, and Birkin followed him inside.  
  
"What are you doing?" Wesker asked.  
  
"I said we had to get ready together, didn't I?" Birkin replied. He turned on the shower. "I'm not going to wait until you take a shower for mine."  
  
"Pest," Wesker said testily. He slid his pants off and climbed into the shower. He then reached over and grabbed William by the arm, pulling him close. He took Birkin's lab coat off and pulled the youth into the shower. "Don't you ever stop wearing that damn coat?" he asked.  
  
"I'm a scientist, I feel about that coat the way a devout Catholic feels about a cross," Birkin replied.  
  
"It doesn't even fit," Wesker pointed out. He put a hand on Birkin's head. "You haven't grown since we came here two years ago."  
  
"It doesn't fit because I am Umbrella's youngest employee," Birkin bragged. "I was born a genius, I'm used to filling shoes that aren't supposed to fit someone my age."  
  
"That's you, Birkin, a regular prodigy.”  
  
"Modesty is for the meek," Birkin said with a smirk. "I _am_ a prodigy."  
  
Wesker slammed him against the tiled wall. He glared at Birkin through the water that was streaming down his face and the steam that was rising. Birkin just grinned his manic grin, his wet hair nearly covering his eyes.  
  
"You are a brat," Wesker told him. "Your arrogance won't suit you well when you taste defeat for the first time, you know."  
  
"Who will defeat me?" Birkin asked. "You? Spencer? I think not." He pushed past Wesker, running a soap bar over his thin body. "I am unmatched. Spencer said it himself, that I am Umbrella's youngest and brightest employee. Defeat? It will not happen."  
  
Wesker narrowed his eyes. Birkin's over-confidence was becoming unbearable. He leaned over William's shoulder. "Be careful that it doesn't, William," he hissed.  
  
With that, he gave Birkin a small shove and climbed out of the shower. Birkin glanced at him, but said nothing. He finished bathing quickly and climbed out next. Wesker was already dressed.  
  
"You're edgy lately," William told him.  
  
"You're annoying lately," Wesker replied. "I liked you better when you were quiet and kept your eyes on your research."  
  
"Ah, I understand now," Birkin said. "While I enjoy being with an equal, you detest it. You would like me better to be a little weaker than you. You don't like the challenge of a full equal, let alone someone intellectually superior."  
  
Wesker turned to him.

"As long as you're the one on your stomach at night, you are not my superior," he said. "So stop letting everything go to your little genius head."

He tapped Birkin's forehead. Birkin blushed.  
  
"Well, you have a point there,” William admitted. “Although things could change."  
  
Wesker rolled his eyes.  
  
"You make too much of yourself, brat," he said. He finished buttoning his shirt and put on his sunglasses. "If things do change, it will be because you are screaming louder."  
  
Birkin's blush deepened and he was finally at a loss for words. Wesker gave him a swat on the bottom and left the bathroom. William hurriedly pulled on his clothes, and then very carefully put on his precious lab coat. He ran his hands through his hair and ran out. Wesker was already leaving the bedroom. William stumbled after him.  
  
Wesker smiled contentedly as he walked the halls. William really was cute. He was young and beautiful and confident, but he always had the appearance of a tag-along child when he was with Wesker. His smile was boyish, and his eager eyes beneath the fringe of sandy hair softened Wesker's annoyance. He stopped walking and caught Birkin with a deep kiss. Birkin stumbled and began to fall backwards, but Wesker put an arm around his waist and held him on his feet. He voraciously kissed Birkin for a long moment. When he released him, Birkin was breathless; he was so breathless, in fact, that he fell onto Wesker, clinging to his arm.  
  
"W-Wesker," Birkin panted, "wh-why suddenly … so affectionate?"  
  
"You're annoying, but." Wesker took Birkin's face in his hand. "Right now, you look rather cute."  
  
He kissed Birkin again and then moved him aside by the shoulders. He continued down the hall and a very red-faced Birkin ran after him.  
  
"You've never called me that before," William said. "In fact, you have never commented on my looks before."  
  
"There hasn't been any need to."  
  
"But I am cute?"  
  
"Yes. Sometimes."  
  
Birkin pondered this. He didn't think about his looks very much. He did not exercise every day at the facility's gym, the way Wesker did. He only cut his hair enough so that it did not get in his eyes or grow to his shoulders. He was pleased by the compliment.  
  
"So, I am good-looking _and_ brilliant.”  
  
"And annoying. And mad," Wesker added.  
  
"And so are you, all those things," Birkin replied. "We're so alike."  
  
"And so different," Wesker said.  
  
"We're a perfect team." Birkin grabbed onto Wesker's arm. "Right?"  
  
"Whatever you say, you're the savant."  
  
"You're right, I am."  
  
They turned the corner and entered the main hall. To their displeasure, old Wesley was waiting for them. Wesker's jaw tensed. Birkin only held onto Wesker more tightly; he did not mind if anyone saw them together.  
  
"We've been waiting for you two," Wesley told them. "I'm sorry if you haven't had a chance to eat yet, but we must begin testing immediately."  
  
Wesker ignored him, passing the old man by without a word. Birkin glanced up at Wesley as he passed, but said nothing. Wesley followed them.  
  
"Something is different about him today," Birkin said quietly to Wesker.  
  
"Who cares? An old man is an old man," Wesker said, not bothering to keep his voice down.  
  
"He's smug, like he has the upper hand," Birkin replied. "It's unnerving."  
  
Wesker looked down at Birkin, who seemed genuinely worried. Then, he glanced back at Wesley. Of course, Birkin was right. The man did seem less annoyed than usual. Wesker frowned. The only reason Wesley would not be bothered by Wesker's rudeness would have to be that he had something on him.  
  
"You're right," Wesker quietly told Birkin. "I'll keep an eye on him. You do the same."  
  
"Of course."  
  
The three made their way down the stairs to the first floor.  
  
"Our goal this time will be to finalize the report on the T-Virus," Wesley said as they made their way down to the labs in the basement. "We are testing a group of fifty people. We will need to affirm the virus' flaws, affects on the DNA and RNA structures in the targets, and whatever other properties it may have."  
  
"Then, we begin Phase 2," Birkin said. "We will have to iron out the details of the virus and perfect it. It is still very unstable." He lifted up a page of coding and symbols. "See?"  
  
Wesker glanced at the paper. As bright as he was, he barely understood it. Although a great scientist and researcher, Wesker was not as good as Birkin, who knew such things like the back of his hand.  
  
"Ah. I see," Wesley said.  
  
He went on to state the problems with the genetic makeup and nature of the virus with perfect knowledge on the subject. Birkin easily followed and replied. Wesker grew silent. He knew his limits as a researcher. Still, it was irritating to think that Wesley knew more on the subject than he did. He quickened his pace and strode ahead of Birkin and Wesley.  
  
"Does he really know what he is doing?" Wesley asked Birkin now.  
  
"Hm? Wesker? Yes, of course he does," William replied, growing defensive.  
  
"Not when it comes to the technical end of things, am I right?" Wesley said.  
  
"He's more suited to handling the practical part of our research, and coming up with theories," Birkin said slowly. "But he is still a great researcher."  
  
"Not as great as you."  
  
"Who is?" Birkin smiled. "But neither Wesker nor I would be accomplishing so much without the other."  
  
"That is not true," Wesley said. "Think about it, William. If Wesker were to die right now, what would you do? Crumble? End your research? Of course not. You would carry on as usual, progressing rapidly."  
  
Birkin was quiet. There was truth in the old man's words. He loved Wesker, but above all he loved his work. No, no one's death could ever put an end to his research, not even Wesker's. He loved Wesker, but he did not need him.  
  
"You don't need him," Wesley said, echoing his thoughts, "but he needs you. Look at him. On his own, he'd have become some mercenary or government agent, not a scientist. He _isn't_ a scientist. He is only feeding off of your research."  
  
"If he were useless, Spencer would not have sent him here," Birkin replied. “And he _does_ know the research very well. He's no layman like you're suggesting.”  
  
"He is not completely useless, but he is not nearly as valuable as you are."  
  
"I will not argue that," Birkin said. “But what is your point?”  
  
"Why is he the one in charge of everything?" Wesley pointed. "Look at him. He always takes the lead, doesn't he? He always tells everyone what to do. He always tells _you_ what to do. Why should he? You're the one who is keeping this facility and its research alive, not him."  
  
Birkin fell silent, thinking about this. No matter how he looked at it, Wesley was right. Wesker had warned Birkin earlier to be careful his confidence wasn't broken by defeat, but perhaps it was Wesker who should be careful. Perhaps it was Wesker who was too confident.  
  
The three reached the laboratory in the basement. There was a long hall of observation cells. A few of them were filled with Zombies from previous experiments, all of them scratching at the glass walls of their cells and moaning.  
  
The Zombie was the first bio-weapon Birkin and Wesker had created. It was a product of the T-Virus. The virus would infect a human and then manipulate their DNA, debilitating them almost completely but leaving them able to infect others. Intelligence would be destroyed, and the body would rot horribly, but the organism itself would be less prone to death. It would feel insatiable hunger and try to feed on anything, thus biting and infecting other humans. It was an efficient bio-weapon.  
  
Wesker looked in at the Zombies, their blank, dead eyes gazing back at him.  
  
Efficient but imperfect, Wesker thought. Though they would spread the virus, there was not a 100% chance of the virus being spread to every single human. In any group of people, it was believed that only 90% would be infected with the virus. Besides, the Zombie was not immortal. It could be killed fairly easily with a few powerful gunshots or incendiary weapons. On top of this, Zombies would frequently eat each other. No, they were definitely not the "100% killing bio-weapon" that Spencer was searching for.  
  
They passed a few cells with healthy, if sedated, people: the new test subjects. Then, the group entered the observation room behind the holding cells. Birkin went through a door and entered the cell with the chained subjects, syringe in hand. Though he'd been slightly hesitant about this process at first, he'd grown quite accustomed to it over the years. He went about the business cheerfully these days.  
  
Wesker watched quietly as Birkin injected one of the subjects. Spencer was searching for the ultimate biological weapon, but why? It was a question that nagged him relentlessly. Was it that Spencer wanted to be the world's leading source of bio-weaponry and make money? No, it couldn't be for profit. The T-Virus, imperfect as it was, could already be sold for a fantastic amount of money to any country. Spencer was losing more money than he was making. His goal had to be personal, but what could it be?  
  
Wesker shook his head. Those questions did not matter now. His goal right now was to make this perfect weapon. He had no time to worry about Spencer.  
  
Birkin returned. He snapped off his gloves and washed his hands. He ran a hand through his hair, sweeping it off his forehead.

"I wish this virus would act more quickly," he said, scribbling on a notepad. "We'll have to wait a few days for the virus to take over the body and DNA structure."  
  
"We have time," Wesker said.  
  
"Hm. But we should work on it," Birkin said. "Don't you think?"  
  
"I suppose," Wesker said.  
  
"What do you sound so hesitant?" Birkin asked.  
  
"He has no idea what to change," Wesley spoke up. He looked at Wesker. "Do you?"  
  
Both William and Wesley looked at Wesker.  
  
"Of course I do," Wesker said impatiently. "But I don't think we should focus on that aspect of the virus just yet. Once the virus produces the results we want, then we'll make it more potent."  
  
"You're right," Birkin agreed. "We need to enhance the virus' effects first." He stretched. "But before that, we need to eat. I'm starving."  
  
"Let's go," Wesker said. "There's nothing more to do here." He turned to Wesley. "Smithe can monitor the initial reactions to the virus."  
  
Wesley frowned, but said nothing.  
  
"Right," Birkin said.  
  
They left the old man alone and headed to the dining hall.  
  
"That was a cold thing to do," Birkin chuckled, "since there really aren't going to be any initial reactions to monitor for at least a day."  
  
"Good," Wesker said. "I hate that old man. He's too close to Spencer."  
  
"You still really hate Spencer, don't you?" Birkin asked, studying Wesker's face.  
  
"Of course I do," Wesker replied. "Can you blame me?"  
  
"I don't blame you."  
  
Wesker fell silent. Now that he thought about it, Birkin rarely spoke of Spencer. Two years ago, he'd stood up to Umbrella's leader for Wesker's sake, but since then he'd remained neutral.  
  
"Aren't you curious, Birkin?" Wesker asked him. "Don't you want to know what Spencer is thinking?"  
  
"What Spencer is thinking?" echoed Birkin. He thought for a moment. "Not really, no."  
  
"No?" Wesker repeated incredulously. "You don't even wonder?"  
  
"I don't like Spencer, but I am able to work because of him," William explained. "I'm not usually one to question why I have what I have."  
  
"You're right, I suppose," Wesker said after a pause. "It's not your vendetta. There's no reason for you to try and take part in it."  
  
"But I will say, be careful, Albert," Birkin warned. "Spencer knows your plans, I'm sure. I'm also certain he knows how much you know and don't know, and how to take you down in an instant. I'll never interfere in your plans, of course, but … be careful."  
  
"I'm always careful," Wesker said. "Always."  
  
"That's good." Birkin put an arm around Wesker's shoulders. "Wouldn't want to lose you, Al."  
  
"Don't call me that. And I thought you said you didn't care if I died?"  
  
"It wouldn't affect my work or mental state too much, but that doesn't mean I _want_ you to die," Birkin replied. "I want you to live, Wesker, you know that."  
  
Wesker tousled Birkin's sandy blond hair. In all honesty, he was not certain he believed William. He really didn't know much about him. He knew the boy was cold, but he had no idea how cold he could be. He didn't know what had made him the way he was, or anything about his past.  
  
They reached the dining hall and demanded food of the staff. Once they sat down, they ate in famished quiet.  
  
"Birkin."  
  
"Hm?" Birkin looked up at Wesker while popping a forkful of food into his mouth.  
  
"Why did you come to work for Umbrella?"  
  
"Why?” Birkin blinked uncomprehendingly. “Well, where else was I going to get funding at my age?"  
  
"You've always been interested in genetic disease research, then?" Wesker asked.  
  
"Well, not genetic disease research per say." Birkin paused as he took a sip of orange juice. "But I have always found disease itself to be a fascinating subject. The way something so small, invisible to the naked eye even, like a germ, can attach onto an organism and become part of it, and then even manipulate it. It's incredibly interesting, don't you think?"  
  
"I suppose." Wesker speared a sausage with his fork.  
  
"That isn't what you're really interested in, is it?" Birkin said knowingly.  
  
"Well, I'm more after the power that can be tapped from it," Wesker explained. "Like you said, these diseases we're working on are invisible to the naked eye, and they hold immense power. If we become Umbrella's leading researchers on these bio-weapons, we'll hold the top source of bio-weaponry in the world in our hands."  
  
"Sounds like you want money," Birkin observed. “Money and power.”  
  
"Doesn't everyone?"  
  
"I just want to study," Birkin said. "Rather, I _have_ to study. I'd never be content not following these things. I've been that way since I was a kid. I can't stand unanswered questions."  
  
"You'll work forever with that train of thought," Wesker said, "but I guess you'll be happy. As for me, I always have to be working on something too, but it's usually obtaining power or going against someone or gathering information. I like research, but I suppose I see it more as a tool to get what I want rather than as a way of life. And I do want money. As much money as possible."  
  
"You're a more typical than I thought," Birkin remarked. “Almost ordinary.”  
  
“Don't be a brat.”  
  
"I don't mean to offend."  
  
"You don't mean to praise, either." Wesker grew serious. "Stop looking down on me, Birkin."  
  
"I'm not! I mean, what person doesn't want money and power?"  
  
"You don't," Wesker said, "and you think that makes you better than me."  
  
"I didn't say that."  
  
"You implied it."  
  
There was an icy silence. Birkin put his eyes on his research papers again and ignored Wesker completely. Wesker, angry, turned his mind to other matters. Eventually, his thoughts turned to Spencer.  
  
Spencer had not come by the mansion for a while now, probably since last summer. Even when he had come by, he was always nothing short of professional and brief. He still watched Wesker very closely, but he never spoke with him alone. He was drifting away, Wesker realized. Whether this was good or bad, the young man had yet to decide.  
  
Wesker tightened his fist. He did not miss Spencer's abuse. Sleeping with him had always been all but unbearable due to the memories of the rape it stirred. Wesker would never miss that aspect of their relationship.  
  
However, having a sexual affair with Spencer had been the only way Wesker was able to interact with him directly. Though Spencer never gave away much of himself, it had given Wesker a chance to survey him. It was the only way Wesker had ever known a tiny bit of what Spencer might be thinking. As things were now, he was completely clueless.  
  
Finished eating, Wesker stood and left the dining hall without a word to Birkin. He took out a cigarette as he entered the Grand Hall. Through the windows, he could see a light snow falling on the bright day. He took a coat from the coat room by the entrance and left the mansion.  
  
Outside, the sky was as white as the snow falling from it. The wind was stirring the surrounding forest gently, and throwing the snowflakes towards the mansion. It was cold in the mountains, bitterly cold, but Wesker did not mind. He lit his cigarette and paced aimlessly.  
  
Wesker wondered how many years of his life would be spent in this lonely facility. He did not mind being separated from the outside world at all, but such solitude did give one too much time to think. In the past two years, there had not been even one chance to lose himself in a busy crowd or defeat the mansion's frequent silent periods. Life had become a cycle with no end in sight. Though used to a lonely existence, he had to wonder … how long would he be in this web spun by Umbrella?  
  
The other scientists all had their own ways of dealing with the loneliness, Wesker had noticed by now. They held tournaments with cards or at the pool tables, often drinking and smoking and joking around. Radios were popular in the facility, through which the staff could hear of the outside world and drown their problems and loneliness with music. Every day, Wesker would pass at least one person intently writing a letter to a loved one. Some phoned home every day. It was all ridiculous, Wesker thought. They were no better than the Zombies tapping and scratching the windows in the observation rooms, trying futilely to touch a world they could only gaze at.  
  
As for Birkin and himself, they had each other. Sex was a natural way to release emotion and forget stress, Birkin would often say. Wesker agreed. It was a way to feel not so alone and enjoy nights that would otherwise be spent lying in bed thinking. Sex was a perfect option—even if it was with that annoying brat Birkin.  
  
Wesker exhaled, his breath visible in the cold air and mingled with cigarette smoke. He turned his face to the sky, his eyes troubled beneath the sunglasses.  
  
There were not many women in the facility at all. Besides, most women desired stability and attention, warmth. Wesker was not about to put all that effort into a relationship just for sex. Birkin had come to him more or less on his own, and was not very demanding. True, he could be annoying, but any person was bound to have their own set of irritating behaviors.  
  
Wesker shook his head, realizing that his mind had returned to Birkin once again. As much as he hated to admit it, he really did prefer being with Birkin rather than being alone. Was it love? He didn't know or care; he just knew that he was glad that he'd met the young “mad” scientist.  
  
Inside, Wesley happened upon Birkin in the dining hall. Birkin had finished eating, but was caught up in his notes.  
  
"Busy, William?" Wesley inquired.  
  
"Hm? Yes," Birkin replied distractedly.  
  
"Wesker isn't around, is he?"  
  
Birkin lifted his eyes from the papers for a moment and looked around. Then, he turned his gaze down again. "No, he left," he muttered.  
  
"Got angry, did he?" Wesley guessed. "Because you spoke the truth? Because you let him know you are in fact his superior?"  
  
Birkin shuffled his papers together and stood. He made to leave without even looking at Wesley.  
  
"Going after him?" Wesley guessed. "And why should you? Is that the way you really want it, William? Do you always want to be the one running after him?"  
  
Birkin stopped.  
  
" _He_ should be coming back to _you_ ," Wesley told him. "Without you, he's nothing, yet you beg him to stay with you? You could do anything you want to him, and he'd always come back. He needs you, Birkin."  
  
"So I should—what?" Birkin turned to Wesley. "Take advantage of that? I have no need to."  
  
"Forget needs, what do you _want_?" Wesley asked. "To always be a child?"  
  
"I'm not a child," Birkin said. “I'm eighteen. I'm not a kid anymore, and you would do well to remember that.”  
  
"Does Wesker remember it?" Wesley goaded. "Just because he's two years older than you, he expects you to be the tag-along. And regardless of your importance, you _do_ tag along behind him."  
  
Birkin lowered his eyes. He previously enjoyed giving up control to Wesker. Wesker would take the lead and take care of practical matters, leaving William to focus on his all-important research. But if this system made him appear so juvenile to the other researchers … William's ego was bruised and for the first time, he felt ashamed.  
  
"But it's none of my business," Wesley said with a shrug. "I suppose you must enjoy playing the child.”  
  
Birkin left the room with gritted teeth. In the Grand Hall, he stopped walking. He had been planning to follow Wesker outside, but Wesley's words stayed him. He could not deny their truth, though he wanted to. Every time they had an argument, Birkin was the one to apologize or go to Wesker. It did seem an immature thing to do, now that he thought about. Maybe he should see if Wesker would do the same. Yes, let Wesker come to him for a change.  
  
Birkin turned from the front doors and jogged up the main stairs. If Wesker did not try and reconcile with him, then they'd both simply have to find a new way to entertain themselves.

  
  


☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣

  
After a ten minute smoke outside, Wesker was surprised that Birkin had not come after him. He chalked it up to the fact that Birkin probably didn't know where he was. He put out his cigarette and headed back inside. All his blond hair had fallen from the moisture of the snow by now, and he had to take his sunglasses off and clean them with his shirt. As he did this, he briskly walked up the stairs to the second floor.  
  
When he got to the room he shared with Birkin, he found William glued to his microscope as usual. Birkin ignored Wesker, although Wesker knew he'd heard the door open. Wondering if he was ignoring him deliberately, Wesker shut the door loudly. Still, William said nothing.  
  
Wesker crossed his arms and watched Birkin. As cute as he was, with his blond hair falling over his face and his mouth set in a line, he was getting increasingly irksome. Now he wasn't even apologizing or trying to make things right. Wesker mused with the idea of just grabbing him and giving him a kiss, but he decided to test Birkin and see how far he'd take this.  
  
Much of the morning passed. Wesker and Birkin resumed their research individually, neither saying a word to the other. They were both very stubborn young men. Lunchtime came and went.  
  
"All right. I give up."  
  
Birkin turned away from his microscope and looked at Wesker. He blinked his eyes a few times, squinting. Was Wesker actually going to apologize for once?  
  
"If you're not going to apologize," Wesker said, standing, "then I'll apologize for you." He went over to Birkin, grabbed him by the shoulders, and shook him a little. " 'Wesker, I am so sorry for acting like a stuck-up brat and insulting you'," Wesker said, mimicking Birkin's youthful, eager voice.  
  
"Wesker, that is not funny," Birkin sighed. "Stop calling me a brat."  
  
"I didn't. You just called yourself one. Now." Wesker lifted Birkin to his feet. "Let's go eat."  
  
"You really think I'm a kid, don't you?" Birkin asked moodily.  
  
"It's your own fault for being Umbrella's youngest genius," Wesker told him, leading him towards the door. "You're the one that's always bragging about being hired when you were only fifteen." Wesker nuzzled his face in Birkin's neck to annoy him. "How can I _not_ see you as a child?"  
  
"Cut it out." Birkin frowned. "Just because I am young doesn't give you the right to patronize me like this, and—"  
  
Wesker grabbed Birkin's face by the chin and turned it to him. He kissed William before the protest could leave his lips.  
  
"Mmph … Wesker," Birkin gasped when he was released. He exhaled, at a loss. "Wesker … "  
  
"I take that as a declaration of defeat," Wesker said triumphantly. He took Birkin by the hand and dragged him into the hall. "Now let's get _going_."  
  
"You're so commanding.”  
  
"I know."  
  
"Maybe you really would have ended up a mercenary if it weren't for me," Birkin muttered. “Or you would only have a token position here because of your relationship with Spencer.”  
  
“Enough.” Wesker gave Birkin's bottom a hard swat. “If you're not going to help me go against Spencer, then don't you talk to me about him. Understand?”  
  
Birkin rubbed the back of his neck nervously, nodded. Wesker continued tugging him along. Soon, they were back in the dining hall. Food was ordered, warmed, and served by the staff.  
  
"Why did you start talking to me?" Birkin asked as they sat down.  
  
"What do you mean?" asked Wesker. "When we met or earlier?"  
  
"Earlier," Birkin said. "You must have noticed that I didn't apologize this time."  
  
"Ah, so you did that deliberately,” Wesker said calmly. “If you don't want to be called a brat, don't act like one.”  
  
"I'm a scientist, I test things," Birkin defended himself. "Besides, I'm always the one to go running to you, so I decided to see what happened if I didn't. You didn't apologize but you did end the argument within the day." Birkin scribbled a few things down on his notepad distantly. "I suppose … you really do need me.”  
  
"Stop saying that.”  
  
"It must be true. Otherwise, you wouldn't care if I were speaking to you or not," Birkin said. "You would have ignored me, and we'd still be not speaking right now."  
  
"Do you have to treat everything like an experiment?"  
  
"Yes." Birkin straightened his lab coat. "I can't help it."  
  
"Well, I suppose that's what it takes to be Umbrella's best," Wesker said. "Eh, Birkin?"  
  
Wesker reached across the table and kissed him. William dropped his pencil and melted into the kiss. His ego and analyses were forgotten.  
  
Unbeknownst to them, old Wesley was watching them from the second floor of the dining hall. He narrowed his eyes. So, their rivalry could not be fueled to the point of hatred. But it didn't matter. With the Antarctica facility Umbrella's sole focus, what Birkin and Wesker did or did not accomplish was of no importance.


	3. Alexia

July 26, 1981 

Winter melted away into spring, and spring blazed into summer. Birkin threw himself into his work more fervently than ever. With the new period of their research, Phase 2, his ambition swelled. Naturally, his work progressed rapidly. Wesker followed him along in the research, often marveling to himself at how brilliant Birkin was. For the past six months, life was a steady, progressive cycle and all was peaceful within the mansion. 

Beneath the serene exterior, trouble was brewing. The staff had begun to speak more and more of Umbrella's new Antarctic facility. Most of them did not even bother hiding their desire to be transferred there. Birkin and Wesker did their best to ignore the comments, but they were growing increasingly distracting.

This day had not gone well. It was steaming hot in the mansion due to a problem with the air conditioning system. The staff had been yapping about the Ashfords and the new facility all day during research. To top it all off, there was a contamination emergency that had to be dealt with. It was a welcome relief that evening when Wesker and Birkin finally got to their room after dinner. 

Wesker burst into the room first, his eyes furious beneath his sunglasses. He tore off his lab coat and flung it aside. Then he flopped down into a chair and exhaled, turning his face to the ceiling. Birkin timidly stepped into the room next, shutting the door behind him. He ran a hand through his hair and scratched his temple nervously. He looked very tired, and his eyes had purple circles around them. He squeezed the bridge of his nose and sat down on his bed. There was a silence as the two calmed their nerves. 

Wesker took off his shades and set them down on the table. He rubbed his eyes and then looked over at William. "You look like hell," he told him. 

"You don't look so great yourself," Birkin replied wearily. He lay back on his bed. "What a day … " 

"I hate summer," Wesker said. 

"Why?" Birkin sat up. "It's the only time when your sunglasses don't look ridiculously out of place." 

Wesker flung a notebook at him. Birkin hit it away, laughing. 

"Goddamn insane facility," Wesker said. 

"Don't say that!" Birkin exclaimed. "The security only failed this one time. Besides, despite the stupid old staff and occasional problems, this is our facility." 

“That's true, I suppose. For now." 

Birkin smiled and then sat down at his desk. To Wesker's surprise, he turned on his computer. 

"What are you doing?" 

"It's been too hectic to do any good research all day, so I'm going to work a little now that I have a chance," Birkin explained. He grabbed a thermos of coffee, opened it, and took a sip. 

"You are mad."

"I know." 

Wesker decided to leave him. He went to take a shower. By the time he came out, Birkin was tapping away happily on his computer. Drying his hair with a towel, Wesker walked over to him. 

"Still working?" 

"Of course," Birkin said. "There is some sequencing that has to be worked out still. I could have gotten all this done earlier if those morons hadn't kept distracting me." 

"Well, now I'm distracting you." 

Wesker reached down and lifted Birkin out of his chair. Birkin's eyes widened. Wesker ignored his surprise and picked him up in his arms. 

"Wesker! Stop it!" William protested, kicking. "I have work to do! We can't waste any more time." 

"All we have is time, Birkin," Wesker told him. "And for all the attention you're giving your precious diseases, you haven't looked once at me for weeks." 

"I've been busy! You know that!" Birkin said. "Wesker, put me down!" 

Birkin kept wriggling, managing to get his feet almost on the floor. Wesker was the stronger, though, and managed to carry Birkin to the bed. He lay Birkin down and climbed over him. Birkin kept on fussing about how the virus' coding needed to be recorded more efficiently and how he couldn't stop working just because Wesker wanted him to and how a good scientist was never distracted for any reason. Wesker shushed him with a kiss. 

"Wesker!" Birkin gasped. "Wesker, stop! I'm serious! I have to work more on—" 

"Which you will do tomorrow, William," Wesker said patronizingly. "Now." He swatted Birkin's thigh. "Turn yourself over." 

“Wesker, please!”

"You like making things harder for yourself, don't you?" Wesker said flatly. "Fine." 

Wesker rolled William onto his stomach and held him there. Then, he reached behind the pillow and pulled out a rope he'd put there. Ignoring Birkin's protests, Wesker tied his arms together at the wrist. 

"I suppose 'no' doesn't mean anything to you, does it?" Birkin sighed, lying helpless on his stomach. "Wesker, these ropes hurt." 

"It's your own fault for being so difficult." Wesker said callously. "Besides, I prefer you helpless like this.”

Wesker bit William's ear. Birkin winced and squirmed as the older man pressed against him. Wesker pushed his lab coat and shirt up, running his tongue down Birkin's bare back. William shivered. 

"Wesker … " 

"Be quiet." 

Wesker pulled Birkin's lab coat over Birkin's face. Blinded, Birkin decided to give up; Wesker was obviously not planning on letting him go. He felt his fly being undone, his pants tugged down. Wesker's coldness was different in sex, it was akin to frost burn. He knew exactly how to manipulate William into feeling as much pleasure or pain as he wanted. He was nearly insatiable, wearing William out more often than not before he was satisfied. Worst of all, he could tell when Birkin's protests were insincere.

"Relax, little scientist," Wesker said soothingly, his hands traveling over Birkin's bare legs and back. "It's nothing we haven't done before." 

Birkin cried out as they came together. “At least untie me!” he gasped.

"Not a chance," Wesker said, his grip on Birkin's waist tightening. "You'll run back to your work if I do." 

"I won't! I really won't!”

Wesker smirked and ignored him. He took his time, enjoying Birkin's smooth, young body and the warmth of the night. Despite his fussing, William arched against him, his body betraying his willingness. 

When he finally released Birkin, the young man was trembling. Wesker lifted the lab coat off his head. Birkin's blond hair was standing up, and he was panting. He rolled onto his side, wincing and looking up at Wesker. Wesker smiled at him, teeth giving his sharp features a shark-like cast. 

"Now you really look like hell," Wesker laughed. He brought Birkin into his arms, kissing him a few times. Then, he untied the ropes around Birkin's wrists. 

"You're cruel," Birkin said, rubbing his wrists. 

"I know it." Wesker lay Birkin down again, on his back this time. "Do you mind?" 

"Would you care if I did?" 

"No." 

Birkin tried to pout, but ending up laughing.  
"Well, I don't mind." He reached up and ran his hand over Wesker's face. "But tomorrow, I must work more. Can't be on top without working for it." 

“I agree.”

"I didn't mean—" 

Wesker buried his face in Birkin's neck, licking and biting him. Birkin gave up and lost himself for the rest of the night.  
☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣

July 27, 1981 

The next morning, Wesker awoke early. The sun was just lighting the blue sky outside, and the mansion was silent. The air conditioning systems were working again, and there was a blanket of coolness over the room. Beside Wesker, Birkin was sleeping peacefully. 

Wesker looked down at him. His face softened and he stroked Birkin's cheek. Birkin, alert as always, stirred but did not wake. 

Wesker stretched his long limbs. There was an ominous feeling in the air. Everything seemed fine, but something was a little off. He climbed out of bed and pulled his pants and shirt on. For a moment, he stood listening. There was only silence. 

Wesker sat down in bed again, and then lay down. There was no reason to be up so early, even with a heavy feeling hanging overhead. Wesker played with Birkin's sandy hair a little, and eventually fell asleep again. 

Some hours passed. It was Birkin who woke up next. He bounced out of bed at 7:00, completely ready for a day of research and testing. He took a very rushed shower, put on fresh clothes, and then threw his beloved lab coat back on. After combing his hair with his fingers, he dragged a grumbling Wesker out of bed. 

"Come on, come on!" he rushed. "We're starting the crucial research today, and I'm delayed thanks to you and your 'fun' last night." 

"You love it.”

"That's beside the point." 

Wesker swatted William and hurried through his morning routine. When he was ready, Birkin practically ran out. Wesker followed along behind him. They walked their daily walk down the mansion's halls and then to the first floor. There, Wesker inquired about breakfast, but Birkin just headed towards the basement. He said they could eat later. Wesker was starving, but followed. Birkin's enthusiasm was encouraging, at least. 

In the basement, Birkin and Wesker walked in on a huddled group of staff members. They were all talking in hushed, excited voices. Birkin was about to charge through them, but Wesker grabbed him by the back of his lab coat. Birkin looked at him questioningly. Wesker motioned for him to be quiet. 

"Did you hear?" one staffer was saying. "Finally! The Ashfords are returning to glory!" 

"It's wonderful, just wonderful," said an older researcher. "Now our company will see some real progress." 

"Oh, how I wish I was in Antarctica now," sighed another older man. 

Wesker stepped forward. 

"Well, you're not," he said. "But if you like, I can turn the air conditioning up, and you can pretend you are." 

The staff all turned to him. They looked absolutely hateful. Discontent was rampant in their eyes. Even after two years, the staff had not been able to accept young Wesker and William as their superiors. From day to day, they lamented that their first boss, Edward Ashford, was deceased. 

The old staffers dispersed, grumbling amongst themselves. Satisfied, Wesker and Birkin went on. They came to the lab. Furthering their annoyance, Wesley was there, along with some more old researchers. 

Birkin and Wesker ignored him. Well, Birkin did; Wesker kept an eye on the old man, who was acting quite smug again. Some time passed between examining samples and writing notes. 

"Ughhh!" Birkin groaned suddenly, jumping away from the microscope. 

They all turned to him. 

"Who keeps exposing these samples to the atmosphere?" Birkin asked furiously, grabbing the sample with a cloth. "For the love of—Do you all want to be zombies, you idiots?" 

Wesker stifled a laugh. Birkin was adorable when he was in an obsessive rage.

"Well, I doubt you double-checked everything last night," one of the old researchers told Birkin. "You and Wesker both were in such a hurry to get to your rooms for God knows what reason." 

"We wanted to get back to our rooms to escape your stupidity," Birkin said nastily. He cleaned up the defective sample and threw it into the waste deposit. "I don't know why I don't have you all mistaken for test subjects and then request a new team." 

"I don't know why we're here instead of in Antarctica," the researcher grumbled. 

"Ah, yes, Antarctica," Wesley spoke up now, his tone odd. "If only Alexia were here..." 

"Who?" asked Wesker. 

"Oh, didn't you hear?" Wesley asked. His eyes flickered strangely in the light. "Today a girl was assigned to head the research at the Antarctica facility. A very young girl. Umbrella's youngest employee ever." 

At these words, Birkin jerked as if he had been electrocuted. He turned on Wesley with fire in his eyes. Wesker ceased being amused by his rage, it was beginning to look like madness.

"What did you say?" William asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Haven't heard the details yet, have you?" Wesley said icily. "Alexia Ashford is Edward Ashford's most promising descendant. She's a prodigy. Only ten years old and already heading the research in the Antarctica facility." 

Birkin's eyes went blank and his posture loosened. His face drained of color and Wesker feared he might fall down.

"Oh, shut up," Wesker said, stepping forward. "The Ashford family has produced nothing for years. So they hired some little brat to head up the research team halfway across the world. Who cares? Just because she got the job based on her name doesn't mean she'll do anything useful." 

"We shall see," was all Wesley said. He knew he'd already said enough. Not needed, he went to the other connected room of the laboratory. 

"What an idiot," Wesker said, shaking his head. He turned to Birkin. "Hey. Let's go on." 

Birkin was silent and rooted to the spot. He stared into space, his only motion the heaving of his chest. Wesker shook his shoulder and William tensed. His blue eyes began to tremble with rage. That morning's ominous feeling returned to Wesker.

"Birkin?" 

" … " 

"William?" 

" … " 

"Will?" 

Birkin's unresponsiveness gave Wesker grave concern. Something had left Birkin, he looked empty. Never before had he been so deflated. Why was he reacting so dramatically? Did Alexia matter so much to him? The Ashfords had always been held in high esteem by the old staff, why was he choosing to be bothered by it now? 

"Birkin!" Wesker shouted. Not waiting for a reply, he grabbed William by the shoulders and turned him to face him. Birkin turned his eyes to Wesker slowly, but his face remained in a state of shock.

"What's wrong, Birkin?" Wesker asked. "Who cares about this new employee, this silly little Alexia?" 

Birkin's right eye twitched at the mention of her name.

"Alexia." He tore out of Wesker's grip and walked past him. "Alexia." An ugly scowl lined his face. "How dare they … " 

"How dare who do what?" Wesker asked, perplexed. 

"How dare they insult me!" William exclaimed. He ran his arm through the supplies on the desk, knocking everything to the floor. "How dare they mock me!" he raged over the sound of shattering glass. "A ten … a ten-year-old … " He kicked at the desks. "HOW FUCKING DARE THEY!" 

Wesker blinked in shock. He always half-joked about William's tendency towards becoming the stereotypical “mad scientist”. He knew the boy walked a fine line between dedication and mania. But he had never seen William this out of control before. He could not even tell if it was the rage of a smug child, a lunatic man, or both.

"They told me I was the best!" Birkin yelled, sounding more the former. "I AM the best! And then they—they—" 

The anger gave way all at once, leaving Birkin limp and depressed. 

“And then they go and do this,” he murmured hoarsely. “They—They just … ” 

"Birkin, calm down," Wesker ordered. "It's not for all that." 

"I can't work in these conditions," Birkin said weakly. 

Stumbling and holding his head, he rushed from the lab. It was something he had not done once since they'd come to the mansion. Birkin leaving early? Wesker felt like he was dreaming, or having a nightmare. 

Once the initial shock wore off, Wesker left after Birkin. In the hall, one staffer told him that Birkin was in the bathroom. Wesker went in. He found Birkin throwing up. 

"Birkin, what happened?" he asked, running to him. "Is it the virus? Were you exposed? You knocked down all those samples." 

Birkin lifted his face. He looked pale and there was an odd grin on his face.

"Would it matter if I was?" he asked. "Our virus is no good anyway." 

"Why are you saying such things?" Wesker asked. 

"But of course it's no good," Birkin went on. He turned on the water in the sink. "It's not like we're Ashfords or anything.” 

"You really are sick over this," Wesker observed, watching Birkin wash his mouth out. 

"No, I'm just sick." Birkin finished rinsing his mouth and stood straight. "Sick to have thought so much of myself. Sick to have believed I was actually … ”

He stared into the mirror for a moment and then stumbled. Wesker caught him and William clung to him like a frightened child. 

"Ten years old!" Birkin wailed. "Ten years old! They're all laughing at me! The so-called prodigy!” 

Wesker sighed wearily. This was just what he needed, Birkin breaking down. Nevertheless, Wesker was patient. He picked William up in his arms and carried him out of the bathroom. Birkin kept his eyes down, looking at no one. 

"They've made a fool out of me," Birkin muttered. He buried his face in Wesker's shirt. “A goddamn fool!”

"You're no one's fool, Birkin,” Wesker said gently. "You're brilliant, haven't I told you that a million times by now? Haven't you told me a million times?" 

"What an idiot I was. How could you stand me?" Birkin shook his head. 

"I only tolerated such annoying bragging because your confidence is well-deserved," Wesker said. "Don't be stupid, Birkin. You're a genius." 

Birkin shook his head listlessly. Wesker carried him into their rooms and laid him down on the bed they had taken to sharing. William was so passive that Wesker missed the feisty defiance of last night.

"Never mind." Wesker forced himself to be patient, though he was getting fed up. "Just rest for now, then. You look like all this has just but killed you." 

"It might as well have killed me," Birkin said bitterly. 

Wesker did not reply. He did not know how to respond to this deep depression. He hoped it was only a passing mood. He climbed onto the bed beside Birkin and took his hand in his own. He kissed the top of Birkin's head and caressed him. William stared expressionlessly at the ceiling.

"This is the first time I've seen you doing absolutely nothing," Wesker commented finally.

Birkin rolled over, drawing his knees up to his chest. Wesker stroked his hair and then removed his shoes for him. William tore off his lab coat and flung it across the room. Before it landed, William had dissolved into tears. He covered his face with both hands and wept softly. He sounded as if his heart were breaking, and even Wesker felt for him. He rested William's head on his lap and held him, stroking his hair.

"Don't worry, William," Wesker said softly. "Just take it easy today, then. You'll get over it soon, won't you? You'll get over it." 

Wesker was not only speaking for Birkin's sake. He needed to convince himself that Birkin would be okay. If he wasn't, Wesker didn't know what he'd do. As usual, Wesker was forced to admit that he would be lost without Birkin. But that was not the only reason he was worried. If Birkin remained like this, what would Spencer do to him? If there was one thing Wesker knew about Spencer, it was that he had no patience for uselessness.

Nor do I, Wesker thought. So why am I here appeasing this broken kid? Why am I so afraid that I won't be able to fix him? We're both expendable, to Umbrella and to each other. We keep repeating this over and over, even joking about it. It's a fact of our lives. Why does it … hurt … to be faced with it now? Was I in denial all along? 

“You had better get past this,” Wesker whispered, too low for Birkin to hear. “You had better not let me down, William.”

☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣

Wesker did everything in his power to encourage him, but Birkin remained in his state of depression. For the remainder of that day, he did not eat or speak. He would fall in and out of sleep, ignoring Wesker completely. Wesker finally gave up on him late that night, hoping a night's rest would help.

The next day proved to be the same. Wesker worriedly covered up for Birkin, telling the staff that he had fallen ill. It was a laughable excuse in the middle of summer, and he knew it. He mentally cursed Birkin for making him look so foolish. He knew that he should be more focused on keeping his place at Arklay than protecting William, but he could not help it. He was uncontrollably worried for his lover.

The third day since Birkin had heard of Alexia came, July 29, 1981. Wesker awoke early and shook Birkin awake. Birkin looked at him with his stricken blue eyes, and then rolled over again. 

"Birkin, get up," Wesker told him, shaking him. "Get up, Birkin." 

" … " 

"Goddamnit." Wesker pulled William into a sitting position. "Look at you. You're pale from starvation. You haven't eaten in two days, Will! Why are you being so melodramatic?" 

Birkin lowered his eyes. He looked very weak, near the point of passing out. Wesker stood and pulled him to his feet. 

"You're being stupid,” Wesker scolded. "You'd kill yourself over a blow to your enormous ego?" 

"Leave me alone," Birkin said, pulling away from Wesker. "It's none of your concern." 

"None of my concern? How can you say that?" Wesker grabbed Birkin by the arm. "Why do you think I gave up everything I've ever believed in, let down all my guards, just to sleep with you? Do you think I'm just having fun mindlessly? I … " 

Wesker stopped himself before the words spilled out. 

"You what?" Birkin asked nastily. "You care for me? Save it." He tugged his arm out of Wesker's grasp. "Just shut the hell up and stay away from me." 

"No. Not for the third day in a row, Birkin." Wesker grabbed Birkin by both arms this time. "You're going to eat. I'm not letting you rot your brilliant mind away over some little girl." 

"I'm not brilliant," muttered Birkin. 

Wesker gave an inarticulate grunt of frustration and yanked William up. Birkin struggled, but Wesker was able to wrestle him out of the room. He kept a firm grip on the man's thin arms and wrangled him all the way to the dining room. There, he sat Birkin down on a chair and held him there while he yelled to the staff for food. 

"Stop it!" Birkin seethed. "Let go of me!" 

"Shut up!" Wesker finally roared at him. He slammed Birkin up and down in the chair, hard. "Stay there and shut the hell up!" 

Birkin was livid, but he stopped trying to escape. Wesker sat in a chair beside him, but did not take his hand off Birkin's arm. Food was served quickly by an awkward, nervous staff.

"Now." Wesker speared a piece of food with a fork and held it out to Birkin. "Eat. Now." 

"Wesker, don't treat me like a baby," William said heatedly. 

"EAT IT!" 

Birkin snatched the fork and wolfed down the food, barely chewing. Realizing how starving he was, Birkin gave in. He got a grasp on the fork and began to eat normally. 

"I told you you were starving," Wesker told him. "For a genius, you can be quite stupid sometimes." 

"I know." 

"Don't say that!" Wesker snapped. "Argue it the way you always do." 

"What would the point in that be?" Birkin sighed. "Just leave me alone today, Wesker, please." 

"Suit yourself." Wesker shrugged. He figured that with Birkin eating, his depression was fading. Hopefully, he'd be back to normal soon. 

Since nothing ever went well in that mansion, Wesley came into the hall. Wesker's jaw tensed. Birkin was too busy eating to notice. 

"Wesker. Birkin." Wesley sat down near them. "We've been waiting for you two. Glad to see you're feeling better, William." 

Birkin looked at him, nodded, and resumed eating. 

"We're going to need instructions on what to do with the test subjects next," Wesley said. "We've recorded much of the data, and we have a batch of new test subjects. Birkin, we need to know what to do with them." 

"Test the virus again," Birkin said carelessly. 

"What?" Wesker asked.

"Test them again," Birkin repeated. 

"Birkin, why?" Wesker asked. 

"It is the safest step," Wesley said, standing. 

"The safest step," Birkin echoed to Wesker. 

Wesker didn't want to go any further in front of Wesley, so he stayed quiet. Birkin nodded to Wesley and Wesley left. 

"Birkin, why did you do that?" Wesker persisted when they were alone. 

"The safest step," Birkin repeated again. 

"You never do anything safely," Wesker pointed out. "You don't bother with over-caution.”

"Things change." 

"Things don't change! Not with you." Wesker grabbed Birkin by the front of his lab coat. "You're just changing because of that damn Alexia." 

Birkin's eyes flashed at the mere mention of her name. He pulled away from Wesker, staring down silently. Then, he resumed eating. 

"Why are you being so weak?" Wesker asked wearily. 

William did not reply. Wesker exhaled through his nose and leaned his head down. Birkin finished eating and sat back in his chair, staring at the ceiling high above.

"I have an idea," he said. "Let's go to the bar." 

"This early?" Wesker gave him a look. "You never drink, Birkin." 

"And we never have any fun!" Birkin said, standing. "Come on, Wesker. Let's take a day off. Let's have fun!" 

"It's not time for—" 

Birkin grabbed Wesker's hand and tugged him. 

"What does it matter how early it is?" he asked. "We have time, don't we? You told me that before, remember? That all we have is time." 

"Yeah, but—" 

"Then, let's go!" Birkin tugged Wesker's arm more. "Come on." 

Wesker followed him grudgingly. Birkin happily dragged him through the door near the fireplace. They went down a short hall and took the first door on the left. They came into the mansion's bar, a room neither visited too frequently. Birkin released Wesker and went over to the drinks. 

"What sounds good?" He picked up a couple of bottles. "Whiskey? Scotch?" He looked across the wide array of drinks. "And we have … wine and champagne … or good old beer. Ha ha." 

"Will, it's not a good idea to start drinking," Wesker said. He sat on a stool at the bar, rubbing his temples. "Can't you just drown your sorrows in your work like always? What's so different about this Alexia? Is it because she's ten? Is that it? She beat your record?" 

Birkin's smile froze. He popped open a bottle of something. 

"This smells nice," he said. "Let's try some of this. Oh, it's strong too, how interesting." 

"Birkin, don't," Wesker told him, disgusted. 

Birkin was not listening. He put his lips to the bottle and took a long drink. Wesker looked away, hating to see his friend in such a pathetic state. Birkin finally put the bottle down, coughing. He blinked his eyes a few times, looking surprised. Then, he laughed. 

"Wow!" he exclaimed. "That is strong! Here! Have some!" 

He pushed the bottle towards Wesker. 

"I don't want any, William," Wesker said. "This is ridiculous. Don't you realize how idiotic you're being? How average?" 

"I'm just having fun," Birkin said stupidly. "Drink with me, Wesker. Drink with me." 

Wesker grabbed him by the tie. "Only if you promise me to stop this moronic act tomorrow." 

"Don't be lame." Birkin struggled a little. "I'll do whatever I want. You can drink with me or not, I'll still do whatever I see fit." 

"So you'll continue making an ass of yourself?"

"Hmph." Birkin took another sip from the bottle, coughed a little. “You're just being boring." 

Wesker lifted his hand slightly, ready to slap the stupidity off Birkin's face.  
"And you're just being an—" But he couldn't hit him. He lowered his hand, exhaled, and released Birkin's tie. "You're being foolish.”

"It's my facility, I can do whatever I want,” Birkin said. 

"It's our facility and our research!" Wesker snapped. 

"Then so it is,” William said. His tone was glib but there was a darker undercurrent. “Good. So, you do your part and you enhance the virus. I've done everything up to this point nearly on my own. But you're right, it is ours. So you do the bulk of the research from here on and leave me the hell alone!" 

Birkin drunkenly stumbled out from behind the bar counter and left the room, bottle in hand. Wesker's fist tightened. Birkin was deteriorating rapidly, and he could do nothing to stop it. If this continued William would go down, and Wesker would go down with him. He had to let William go, he told himself. He had to leave him to his fate.  
Wesker took his sunglasses off and squeezed the bridge of his nose. With his eyes shut, he saw William's boyish face. When they had met, William was fifteen, and since then Wesker had always seen him as a kid. But he had never seen Birkin act so childish as he was now. It was nauseating. It was pathetic. He should be nothing more than scornful of the spoiled, egotistical prodigy. He should be glad to see the smug boy taken down a notch. Wesker tried to drudge up these feelings, but all he felt was sorrow.  
No, that was not true. Beneath the sadness, Wesker felt something else, something even more disturbing. He felt protective of William Birkin. He wanted to fix him, to see him through this. He wanted to keep him. He wanted to go on loving him. The realizations hit Wesker like slaps to the face. He mentally flailed against them, but he was too self-aware to deny them any longer. He loved William and he was loathe to let him go.  
Wesker poured himself a drink after all. He knew how he felt, there was nothing else to do but deal with it. Wesker was not one to back down from a challenge, even if the challenge was caused by love. So, he asked himself, how could he save a man that did not want to be saved?


	4. Still Broken

**August 27, 1981**   
  
A month had passed since news of ten-year-old Alexia Ashford's recruitment had destroyed Birkin. Birkin's depression proved to be much more than a passing phase; as the weeks passed, he sank more and more into his own world of self pity. He took to drinking his days away and sleeping restlessly at night. He kept sending the research in circles, achieving absolutely nothing. Wesker tried his best to help Birkin, but there was nothing he could say or do to bring the old Birkin back. It was as if he'd died from the defeat.   
  
On this day, Birkin would not even get out of bed. Wesker took his place in the lab along with the older researchers, and did his best to make progress. However, the lack of Birkin's genius was well noticed.   
  
"Where is young William?" Wesley asked pointedly.   
  
"He is ill," Wesker lied curtly.   
  
"Hmph," Wesley scoffed, "do you expect me to believe that? What is it, Wesker, pneumonia in the middle of August? Tsk, tsk. If you plan to cover for him, I would at least expect you to do a better job of it."   
  
Wesker frowned. Despite his chiding, Wesley could not hide how happy he was that William was failing.  
  
"We have produced nothing for one month, a record for us," Wesley went on. "Word has reached Mr. Spencer by now, I'm sure."   
  
"Given your glib tongue, I'm sure of it, too,” Wesker retorted.  
  
"He doesn't need to hear it from me," Wesley said. "It's obvious that little William has become incompetent. It should be equally obvious what Spencer _does_ to the incompetent."   
  
Wesker slammed his fists on the desk and turned on Wesley.   
  
"This facility needs Birkin," he declared. "He's too much of a genius to be wasted."   
  
"A useless genius is still useless," Wesley said coldly. "And Mr. Spencer does not suffer useless people.”  
  
" **Nothing** is going to happen to Birkin," Wesker said firmly.   
  
"How can you be sure?" Wesley asked. "Hm?"   
  
Wesker stared at him. It was true. He had not seen Spencer for months. He had no idea what the man was planning. This ignorance had been bothering him for a while, but now it was deadly. Spencer could make any move, and Wesker would have no chance of preventing it. He could be planning to kill Birkin right now, and Wesker wouldn't know until it was too late.   
  
Wesker turned from Wesley and rushed out of the lab. He jogged until he was outside the mansion. On the grounds, he ignored questions and got into a company vehicle. He started the car and began the long drive down from the Arklay Mountains.   
  
As he drove, Wesker knew he would regret this one day. He cursed William for leaving him with no other choice. There was no way he could sit by and let Birkin be killed. It was not only that he cared for William, he assured himself. They were a team and without Birkin's genius, Wesker might not be able to be of use to company, either. There was no other way. He had to see Spencer.   
  
A pit formed in Wesker's stomach. The last thing he wanted was to go running back to Spencer. By choice, he'd never see the detestable man again. Spencer was the only one who had ever taken him for a fool, the only one who had ever taken advantage of him. He was the only one who demanded respect from Wesker, and who Wesker was forced to respect. Spencer also was, Wesker had always suspected, the one who was playing everyone like puppets. There was no doubting that Spencer would force Wesker into submission again if Wesker tried to convince him to let Birkin live.   
  
Wesker's eyes went blank. What it would probably come down to would be having to sleep with Spencer again to save Birkin. Wesker hit the steering wheel in anger. He would hate both Birkin and Spencer for it forever, but it was what had to be done. Birkin couldn't die just yet. He had to live—no matter what the cost.   
  
"Damn you, Birkin," Wesker said softly. "Goddamn you."

☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣

  
Though the drive was long, it ended all too soon. Before he knew it, Wesker had reached Umbrella's main office in Raccoon City. He got out of his car and stared up at the building. It was one of the small mid-western town's tallest and most impressive buildings. Spencer had nearly the entire town employed there. People were always buzzing back and forth from the building. Wesker scowled at their ignorance. They were pawns, just as he and William were, but less valuable. That is, if he and William even had value anymore …   
  
Perhaps it was better to be oblivious than to have to choose to be a puppet. Right now, Wesker wished he was one of those dumb citizens. He knew what was coming and had to force himself to walk towards that looming building.   
  
Nevertheless, he managed to stride into the building calmly. He was asked if he had an appointment, but he barged ahead without reply. Security ran after him, but he did not stop until he reached the top floor. There, he burst into Spencer's office.   
  
Spencer was sitting at his desk with his back to everyone as usual. His silver hair gleamed in the small slits of sunlight coming in through the blinds. He smiled a little as he heard the door open, for he knew exactly who had come in. After a moment, he turned in his chair.   
  
Wesker stood rigid and with his chain lifted. He wore his usual black clothes and heavy boots, and still had his lab coat on. Beneath his sunglasses, his gaze was steady. He was flanked by several security guards and a secretary.   
  
"Sir, he just burst in!" the secretary explained. "We couldn't—"   
  
"Yes, it's quite all right. I can handle this one," Spencer told them. He motioned for them to leave, and they did. Then he turned his cold eyes on Wesker. "Albert, it has been what seems like an eternity. How are you?"   
  
"Don't worry about me, Spencer," Wesker said. "You know I can take care of myself."   
  
"Granted." Spencer nodded. "And how is young William?"   
  
"I believe you can answer that for yourself," Wesker said.   
  
"You know me well by now, Albert," Spencer observed. "May I ask what brought you here, then?"   
  
"Birkin is the reason I'm here," Wesker said. "What are your plans for him?"   
  
"Who can say?" Spencer shrugged. "Though it has reached my ears that he has become incompetent."   
  
"You would kill him?" Wesker asked.   
  
Spencer stood and faced the window, his back to Wesker.

"This is a pharmaceutical company, Wesker, not a mafia. We don't kill our workers."   
  
"Don't play innocent with me," Wesker said. "You kill anyone who gets in your way or hampers your progress. Life is cheap to you, to Umbrella."   
  
Spencer turned to him.

"Such accusations,” he said. “What right do you have to force your way into my office and accuse me of these crimes? I thought that you had outgrown that impertinence by now.”  
  
"Sorry." Wesker forced himself to calm down. "But I need to know that you will let Birkin live."   
  
"Why should I guarantee you his life?" Spencer asked.   
  
"I would … " Wesker drew a breath. "I will do anything, but I need your word."   
  
"Is that what you think, Wesker?" Spencer asked. "You sell your body and I pay any price for it?" He waved a hand. "Why should I accept your offer? There are plenty of others I could have."   
  
Wesker pressed his lips into a thin line to keep from comment.  
  
"But." Spencer looked at Wesker. "Because we are old friends, Albert, I will consider the situation and your offer. Although … " Spencer walked up to Wesker and touched his face. "… you may want to give me a sample of exactly what you would do if I accept."   
  
Wesker stepped back. Spencer was not going to make this easy, he saw. Still, he had to remain strong.   
  
"No." Wesker shook his head. "Not until you agree to let Birkin live."   
  
"You are no fool, Albert." Spencer nodded. "I will get back to you on this matter in a day or so."   
  
"In a _day_?"   
  
"No need to raise your voice," Spencer said. "Surely, you understand how busy I am."   
  
"I will get Birkin to work again," Wesker said. "I will."   
  
Spencer nodded callously and sat behind his desk again.   
  
"There will be no reason to kill him, you'll see," Wesker said. "I'll see to it."   
  
With that, he left the office in a hurry. Alone, Spencer chuckled. Wesker was playing his role perfectly. Of course, Spencer had no intention of killing Birkin just yet, but Wesker did not need to be aware of that. This was the perfect tool to get Wesker exactly where Spencer wanted him at the moment.

☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣

  
Driving back up to the mansion was torturous. Wesker's mind was in a million different places. Part of him was thinking up all the different ways Spencer could have Birkin eliminated. After all, Spencer did not always keep his word. He could have Birkin killed before Wesker got back to Arklay. And all because of Birkin's wounded ego. In the back of his mind, Wesker dreaded what would happen if Spencer did let Birkin live. It would be a big favor for Spencer to give Wesker, which meant Spencer would own him for the time being.   
  
Wesker banged the steering wheel with his fist. He hated Birkin. None of this would be happening if Birkin hadn't reacted so childishly. Wesker had accepted his place as second best when he'd met Birkin, why couldn't Birkin do the same? Birkin didn't even have to face Alexia, she was all the way in Antarctica.   
  
Wesker drove into the mansion's parking lot. He barely parked the car before he jumped out. A few people called to him, trying to reprimand him for leaving without notice, but he ignored them. He ran into the mansion and up the stairs. He got to the rooms he shared with Birkin and barged in.   
  
Birkin was lying in bed. He rolled over lazily and looked up at Wesker. Wesker glared at him through his black sunglasses.   
  
"Al … " Birkin said weakly. He blinked his bleary eyes. "Why are you looking at me like that?"   
  
"You have to work!" Wesker roared at him. "Birkin! Don't you get it? They're going to kill you, you idiot!"   
  
"It doesn't matter," Birkin said, turning his face to the window.   
  
"IT MATTERS!" Wesker grabbed him by his shirt and lifted him into a sitting position. "It matters! Without you, I'm worthless! The research is worthless! Everyone here is dead! Don't you get that?"   
  
"Doesn't matter," Birkin repeated distantly.   
  
"It matters!" Wesker slapped Birkin across the face. "It matters, goddamn you!"   
  
Birkin clutched his face, eyes wide. Wesker was too impatient to be sympathetic. He needed to fix William however he could.  
  
"Stop treating me … like a child!" Birkin burst out.   
  
He flew at Wesker, catching him on the jaw with a punch. The two fell off the bed and onto the floor. Birkin attempted to hit Wesker again, but Wesker wrestled him to the floor and sat on top of him. Birkin's eyes were wild, insane.   
  
"How dare you hit me," Wesker breathed. He shook Birkin. "How dare you!"   
  
"Why? Because I'm the weak one and you're the strong one?" Birkin asked angrily. "Because you're two years older? I don't care who or what you are, Wesker! Don't _you_ dare treat _me_ like a child!"   
  
"Don't I dare? Birkin, you little … " Wesker clenched his fist. "Don't you understand anything? I'm trying to help you. You have to work!"   
  
"I told you I can't!" Birkin yelled at him.   
  
"You can, Birkin!" Wesker shook him. "You just don't want to."   
  
"That's irrelevant. You can't force me to work."   
  
"Oh can't I?" Wesker challenged him grimly.   
  
He wrestled Birkin until he had rolled the younger man onto his stomach. Then, he began tugging Birkin's pants down.   
  
"Wh-what? You plan to rape me?" Birkin laughed cynically. "Don't waste your time. That may have worked for Spencer when he raped you, but it won't have any effect on me. In fact, go right ahead. You couldn't even call it rape, not if I want it. And I always want you, don't I? I've just … let myself bend to your will for these past two years. So go ahead."   
  
What Birkin did not know was that Wesker wanted to hurt him, not use him. And when Wesker wanted someone hurt, they got hurt. He finished tugging Birkin's pants off and pushed his lab coat out of the way. Then, he unfastened his own belt.  
  
"I don't care what you say, Birkin," Wesker told him. "You **will** go back to work, one way or another."   
  
"I told you that I won't," Birkin said stubbornly, trying to twist his head around to look at Wesker. "What are you doing, anyway? Get the hell off of me, you're going to break my spine."   
  
"What I'm trying to do is convince you to work." Wesker snapped his folded belt. "No matter what that may take."   
  
"I told you, I can't work."   
  
The words had barely left his mouth when he was struck hotly across his buttocks. The crack sounded like a gunshot. Birkin's eyes went wide with shock and he winced as the heat turned to stinging pain.  
  
"Wh-wha … Wesker, what … " Birkin twisted around to look up at his lover. Wesker was holding his belt in one hand, his face a mask of severity. Fear shot through the youth as his eyes welled with tears. "Wesker!"   
  
Wesker's resolve wavered. He struck the boy again and he cried out piteously. On the third whack, Birkin crumbled, burying his face in his arms. Wesker climbed off of him and sat in a slump beside him, saying nothing. What could he do or say? For a moment he had become exactly like Spencer. Beating Birkin with his belt, it was something Spencer would have done to him if he had pushed him that far. No. He could not let himself fall into that pattern. He wouldn't hurt William that way, not like that …   
  
Wesker straightened up and pulled Birkin into his arms. He felt frail, and his crying did not help matters. Wesker ran a hand through Birkin's fine blond hair and sighed.

"William, why do you have to be so pitiful?"   
  
"I'm not," sniffed Birkin. He wiped his eyes on his lab coat sleeves. "It's not my fault."   
  
"Yes, yes it is." Wesker touched his face. "Hey, stop crying. I didn't do half of what I had planned to."   
  
"You don't understand!" Birkin sobbed. "You don't understand! I'm nothing, I … I'm not good at anything! I never was!"   
  
"Of course you were!" Wesker told him. "How can you deny the facts? You've taken the virus this far, further than anyone expected."   
  
Birkin shook his head. "No, no, it's nothing … nothing … "   
  
"Birkin."   
  
William burst into sobs, tears soaking through Wesker's black shirt. He cried loudly, childishly, repeating over and over that he was no good at anything and that it wasn't fair and that he had been living a lie. Wesker stroked his hair and kissed him, but it had no effect on him. He was utterly inconsolable.   
  
"You poor spoiled little brat," Wesker sighed. "William, you are the most brilliant and beautiful man I have ever know. You don't need a family lineage or to have started younger. Nothing will come of Alexia's research, you'll see. In the end, you **will** win if you just keep going."   
  
"I've seen reports of her research," sniffled Birkin. "She's done things I won't accomplish for years! She's smarter than me."   
  
"Oh who cares?" Wesker asked in exasperation. "There is probably someone out there smarter than her. There are no ultimates in this world, this life. Surely you didn't think you would always be the best in everything?"   
  
Birkin bawled.

  
"For God's Sake, be a man, Birkin!" Wesker snapped. "You aren't a little kid anymore. You can't fold at the first sign of competition. If you do, everyone who does look down on you will be proven right. Do you understand? You have to keep going."   
  
“I can't. I can't. I'm not good enough. I know I'm not, Wesker."   
  
"What will I tell Spencer?" Wesker asked angrily. "Tell me what I'm going to say to protect you! Better yet, why don't you guess what I'll have to do to save you?”  
  
"I don't care about Spencer," Birkin scoffed. "He's your problem, not mine."   
  
"You _made him_ my problem again!" Wesker yelled.

“I never asked you to do anything for me,” William said. “I never asked you for anything.”

“No, all you did was make me love you,” Wesker said bitterly. “I love you, William. There, I've said it. Now do you understand?”

  
  


“That's your problem, too. Not mine. Just leave me alone.”

  
  


Not knowing quite what to do, Wesker pulled Birkin across his knees. His pants and briefs were still disheveled from the belting, Wesker merely had to push them back down. The youth's bottom was still red and warm from the three whacks.

  
  


"Act like a child, and I'll treat you like one."   
  
"Stop it!" Birkin shrieked. "Wesker, stop it! I'm not acting like a child!"   
  
"Oh yes you are. Let's see if you continue your little tantrum after this."   
  
Birkin gave a wordless cry as Wesker slapped his hand down on his buttocks. He cried even harder but Wesker was past sympathy. He spanked his sullen lover with hard, fast smacks. William kicked and struggled uselessly. It was cathartic to exorcise his frustrations on the kid's vulnerable flesh. Wesker's temper cooled as he gratifyingly slapped his rigid palm down on Birkin's trembling bottom.   
  
"Did you think that this job would be an easy ride? That you would never be challenged?" Wesker scolded him. "You should be ashamed of yourself. After all your years of bragging and pride, you would give up to a little girl now? Just because she was hired at a younger age? This isn't a schoolyard competition. Act your age, William."   
  
"Ow! Wesker!" Birkin yelped. "Stop it! How dare you!"   
  
"How dare _you_?" Wesker retorted, imprinting his palm on Birkin's fleshy bottom again. "I'm going through hell trying to keep you alive, and do you even give a damn? No. All you care about is your pride, your ego. You are a selfish, spoiled, inconsiderate brat.”

  
  


Wesker punctuated the last four words with very hard spanks, right over one of the belt's welts.   
  
"I'm sorry, Wesker," Birkin whimpered. "Ow! Aoooww! I'll try to work! I will!"   
  
Wesker was not ready to stop the spanking. He was quiet for a while, enjoying the arrogant boy's wails. _I should have done this sooner,_ Wesker thought. _I don't want to_ beat _him, but he's been begging for a good hard spanking for a while now._

  
  


"Will you keep going with our work?” Wesker asked at last. “Do you promise?”  
  
"Ouch! Yes!" Birkin yelled desperately. " _Yes_! Just let me go!"   
  
"Hmph. I hope that teaches you something." Wesker patted Birkin's behind lightly. "Get up, then."   
  
William sat up shakily, jilted and smarting. He rubbed his bottom, flinching as it pressed on the floor. In the back of his mind, he noted that this was not an outcome he had ever anticipated. _I should have,_ he thought. _All those love taps Wesker's given me, some of them pretty hard … He's been wanting to do this all along. Still, I can't believe he actually went so far as to_ spank _me. I'm not even a teen anymore, I'm an adult. And he still … took me over like it was nothing …_

  
  


"You are stronger," William admitted ruefully. "I may be smarter, but it doesn't matter because I'll never have that strength. I don't have any strength. I've always been small and weak, insignificant. I thought my mind made up for that, but it doesn't. That was what drew me to you, you were everything I lacked. I … I do love you, Wesker."   
  
Wesker held him close, pitying him. It must be awful to be a person trapped by their own insecurities, he thought. Birkin was crying so hard, his fragile heart broken, all because of one person besting him. One competition and he had fallen, confidence and everything else gone. It was not simply a tantrum, the problem went far deeper than that. He was manic, Wesker could see that now. It was part of what made him so obsessively brilliant, but this breakdown was a heavy price to pay for those talents. Wesker kissed his forehead tenderly.

  
  


"I love you, William," he said softly. "But I won't be Spencer's victim for you. Should he decide to dispose of you, you will be on your own. Do you understand?"   
  
"It's all right. I don't care."   
  
Wesker pulled Birkin's underwear and pants back up, straightened his lab coat for him. He picked the thin young man up in his arms and carried him over to his bed. He sat down against the headboard, Birkin bundled up in his arms like a doll, and stared out the window.   
  
"I'm disgusting, aren't I?" Birkin cried.   
  
"You could never disgust me, Birkin," Wesker lied. "I love you."   
  
"You haven't said that to me before today," William said with a sad smile. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this. I've been impossible, I know, but you don't understand. You don't know what it's like to be held up on a pedestal, everyone making you believe you are the best, that you're perfect, and then you come crashing down and everyone is laughing at you, thinking you're a fool."   
  
"Who cares what other people think?"   
  
"I care," Birkin said. "It's not just you, everyone thinks I'm some spoiled little brat that's been backhanded, and they're all so amused. They're laughing at me. I know it!"   
  
"Sh, shhh, easy," Wesker hushed him. "I know what you're saying, but you can't let that bother you so much. You can't be so fragile in this world, William. You have to prove them wrong, fight them."   
  
"They're not wrong, they're right," William said. "Look at me. I am weak and laughable. Hell, you spanked me! I'm eighteen, and you spanked me like a small child. I'm pathetic."   
  
"I didn't spank you because I think you're pathetic," Wesker said. "I was trying to get through to you. I don't think you're pathetic. I simply don't want you wasting yourself like this, depressed and careless. You're stronger than you think, William."   
  
“No,” William said stubbornly. “No, I'm not."   
  
"I obviously can't convince you," Wesker said wearily. "I'll leave you alone. You'll snap out of it eventually. I know you will. In the meantime, I'll be here for you."   
  
William hugged him. "Thank you, Wesker."   
  
Wesker cast his eyes to the ceiling and rubbed his back. "It'll be okay, William. I promise."

  
  


☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣

  
  
"Isn't that sweet?" Spencer remarked as he watched the two on his monitors from Raccoon City. "Pity that Wesker isn't so stupid anymore. He loves him, but he will not sacrifice himself for him. I should have known."   
  
Alone in his office, Spencer finally shut off his monitors. All was quiet. He sat in his dark office, thinking for a long moment.   
  
He could, of course, continue to needle Wesker. He could hold William's life over his head as a test. But if Wesker refused to give in, he would lose a valuable scientist. Besides, Wesker was hardly worth the effort. He was so in love with Birkin that Spencer doubted he would have time to try and figure him out.   
  
"I think I'll give him his happy ending, at least for a while," Spencer said to himself. "Birkin will keep him on his toes, the rest is insignificant. Umbrella is doing bigger, better things." He pressed a button on his phone. "Alicia, go ahead and book that flight to Antarctica. I'll be leaving tonight."   
  
  
  


☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣

  
  
 **August 28, 1981**   
  
William awoke on Wesker's chest, as usual. He smiled, enjoying the warm sunshine and the scent of his lover. His bottom was sore and he saw bruises when he glanced over his shoulder. So much for rivalry. William found that he no longer cared to compete with Wesker. He was relieved to have been subjugated by him, in fact. He could let Wesker lead him without jealousy. He could give up trying so hard to win and enjoy his lover for all his strengths.   
  
"I do wish I had been born a man like you," William whispered to his sleeping partner. "But this is as close as I will ever come. It's good enough, I guess."   
  
Wesker opened his eyes and frowned. "That's a rather defeatist viewpoint."   
  
Birkin blushed. "I thought you were sleeping."   
  
Wesker sat up, stretching.

  
  


"You're getting out of bed today, right?" he asked through a yawn. "Or do I have to spank you again?"   
  
"I'll get up," Birkin said meekly. He climbed out of bed and fetched some clean clothes. "But … do I have to work today? I'm so tired."   
  
"Yes, you have to," Wesker said strictly. "Even if you don't do as well as before, I won't have you lazing about our room doing nothing."   
  
"Who do you think you are?" grumbled Birkin. "My father?"   
  
Wesker gripped his shoulder. "Your strength, remember?"   
  
There was a flash of William's old defiance, but it faded quickly. He nodded and embraced Wesker.

  
  


“Thank you,” he murmured. “You're right.”  
  
Wesker allowed it for a moment, and then gently pulled William off. "Yes, yes. Don't get too sentimental." He handed Birkin his lab coat. "Let's get going."   
  
Birkin put it on. Wesker took him by the hand and led him out of the room. They continued down to the dining hall, where they were served breakfast. Birkin ate ravenously for the first time in days. Wesker watched him, pleased.   
  
Everything was fine until they were joined by Wesley.  
  
"Well, nice to see you up and about again, William," Wesley greeted him. "I was beginning to think our bright young scientist had become a victim of his own disease. But I suppose you aren't that careless, are you?"   
  
Birkin lifted his eyes to Wesker for defense, but Wesker gave him a pointed look. William got the message: fight your own battles. The youth shifted on the chair, finding it difficult to summon confidence when his buttocks were so sore.

"No."   
  
"No, of course not," Wesley said patronizingly. "You may be young, but you are not _that_ young. I mean, it isn't as if you are ten years old."   
  
Birkin's right eye twitched but he retained his self control. He went on eating, eyes on the table. Wesker's blood was beginning to boil beneath his cool facade.  
  
"Of course, if you were younger, we might respect you more," Wesley went on. "A teenage prodigy is one thing, but a child one is quite another. You are as good as the age you begin your career, you know. Though of course, you don't have the lineage for such extraordinary gifts.”  
  
Birkin cried out as if he'd been struck. He grasped his head in his hands, shoulders shaking.

“Shut up!" he shouted hoarsely. "Shut up! Shut up!"   
  
“Leave him alone,” Wesker said. “Leave him alone before I kill you, you old bastard.”  
  
"No need for such threats,” Wesley said. “You can be as childish as Birkin sometimes, can't you? Always making threats that you could never see through. And why? I was only trying to encourage your precious _friend_. We both know how much Spencer despises incompetence.”  
  
“One more word—” Wesker suddenly had his gun pointed across the table. “—and I will make good on my promise. I don't make empty threats, old man. And I promised you two years ago that I would see you dead.”  
  
Wesley stood, a smug smile on his lips. "Oh, I cannot wait to speak with Spencer about this. He will have your hide, Wesker, and your little pet's as well."   
  
A voice spoke from the other end of the dining hall, "Spencer is gone, Smithe."   
  
Everyone looked over, except for Birkin, who was holding his head and rocking back and forth. The director of the facility had entered the room. He was a quiet man that Wesker and Birkin normally ignored. Wesker wondered why he had entered the fray. He watched the man warily.  
  
"What did you say?" Wesley asked.   
  
"He left for Antarctica last night," the director told them. "He will be pooling his resources and overseeing the projects there."   
  
"He doesn't even care about my work anymore!" wailed Birkin.   
  
“Hey.” Wesker swatted William's shoulder. “Don't whine.”  
  
"What!" Wesley exclaimed. "No, that cannot be right. He said I could accompany him there, should he go. He never said he was leaving so soon!"   
  
"He left, Wesley," the director said. "Birkin, Wesker, and myself will be overseeing all activities here at Arklay.”  
  
Wesley's mouth hung ajar. He looked at Wesker and then at Birkin. Without a single word, he rushed from the room. Wesker holstered his gun and stood as the director approached him.   
  
"Is that true?" he asked. "Spencer is gone?"   
  
"Yes. And I know that you've been wondering, but he left no, er, 'special orders' concerning you or William."   
  
"Finally … he's really gone." Wesker took off his shades and rubbed between his eyes. "Look, I know we've been pretty disrespectful to you the past years, but it's time everyone grew up and started working together."   
  
"I look forward to it,” the man said, extending his hand.  
  
Wesker shook his hand. “Good.”   
  
The director briefly put a hand on Birkin's shoulder before exiting. Wesker turned his attention to him. Birkin was still holding his head in his hands and rocking.   
  
"Hey, cheer up," Wesker told him. "With Spencer gone, your life isn't in danger anymore. We can both relax."   
  
"He doesn't even think I'm important enough to kill!" Birkin complained. "After all this time, he just leaves! He doesn't care that I'm wasting his time and money. He doesn't care about anything here at all."   
  
"William." Wesker took Birkin's face in both hands. "Shut up before you really annoy me."   
  
Birkin bit his bottom lip and leaned his head on a hand. He remained sullen but stopped whining. Wesker knew the spanking was fresh on the youth's mind.  
  
"Let's go to work," Wesker said once they were both done eating. He stood, but Birkin did not. "Is there a problem?"   
  
"Why work? Spencer is gone anyway," William grumbled. His voice was very low, in hopes that Wesker might not fully understand what he was saying. "You don't have to worry about me dying anymore."   
  
"I'm not just worried about you dying, I'm worried about _you_ ," Wesker said. "Stand up." He waited. "I won't ask you again, William."   
  
William stood. "Still treating me like a child.”  
  
Wesker grabbed him by the back of his lab coat. "Still acting like one. Come on."   
  
Birkin let himself be led along, sulking. Wesker was nearly irked enough to flip him over and spank him again, but the news of Spencer's departure had put him in too good a mood. His annoying little lover would live, at least for a while. Wesker had never expected to feel this joyous over another person's life being saved, but it wasn't a bad feeling. He knew right then and there that William would always be the only person he ever allowed himself to love.

  
  


☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣☣

  
  
There remained only one problem to be taken care of, and Wesker decided to take care of it right the next day, on **August 29, 1981**. The morning began like any other, with the sleepy young scientist on his chest and having to swat him awake. Breakfast came and went, and then the two went down to the laboratory. Birkin did meaningless work merely for the sake of keeping his bottom from another punishment, and Wesker struggled to catch up to his research. Wesley was lingering around, but he was deathly quiet. His silence was not enough for Wesker, not after he had continued to try and hurt fragile William.   
  
Birkin got bored halfway through the day. He sat back in his chair, frustrated. He surveyed Wesker for a long moment before finally gathering the nerve to lie his way back to his room. "Wesker, I forgot something. I'll be back in a bit."   
  
Wesker knew it was a lie, but he'd been counting on Birkin leaving. "Yeah, sure," he said, pretending to be distracted by his work. "Don't be too long, though."   
  
“I won't,” William said. His purpose was betrayed by his guilty manner as he ran out of the room.  
  
Wesker smiled, standing up. He looked over into the adjoining lab, where Wesley was working alone. The last problem …   
  
The sliding doors made a mechanical sound as they opened. Wesker stepped into the lab, behind Wesley.

  
  


"You made a dire mistake, old man," he said. "You may scoff at my affair with Birkin, but I put my faith in him because he loves me. You put your faith completely in your decrepit old self and Spencer, who cares about nobody."   
  
Wesley turned to him. Wesker could see him struggling to hide his fear.

  
  


"I will join Spencer in Antarctica, he won't send me back," he said. "Now that you are too wrapped up in the brat to be a threat to him, he won't need me here."   
  
"He doesn't need you there, either," Wesker said. "Do you really think you're indispensable to him? No, you're wrong. Birkin is the one he chose not to kill, and you are the one he chose to leave behind. He knew what I'd do to you should you stay here, trying to tear apart William."   
  
"You won't do anything!" Wesley snapped. "Everyone would know my death is murder! You'd never get away with it."   
  
"Oh, don't be so naive," Wesker sneered. "We're scientists! Accidents can occur at any given moment, and even the tiniest one—" He brandished a syringe. "—can be so lethal."   
  
Wesley backed away from him. "No, Wesker, you … I know you! You wouldn't kill me over your weak little boyfriend! You're not the type!"   
  
"You never counted on my falling in love with him," Wesker said. "Hell, I don't blame you. It took me by surprise too. But I do love him. For the first time in my life, I have someone I would kill for."   
  
Wesley backed up into a desk, bottles falling around him and shattering.

  
  


"No, you—you can't! Don't be a fool! Love doesn't exist! We're scientists, damn it!"   
  
"There are unexplained variables even in our field, Wesley." Wesker closed in on him. "Every great discovery was once a mystery. But I don't have to tell you that. You'll see everything for yourself as your body rots away, dying from microscopic beings, mind going numb with discomfort and hunger … insatiable hunger and pain … "   
  
"WESKER!"   
  
Wesker threw the syringe so accurately that it sank deep into the old man's wrinkled neck. He reached out, depressed the plunger, quickly pressed the Emergency lock down button and ran into the adjoining lab. Wesley tried to follow but the doors to the room shut and locked. Red lights flashed and the alarm sounded. Wesker waited patiently for security to arrive, watching Wesley pound the doors desperately. His mouth moved in screams Wesker could not hear.  
  
Wesker pressed the intercom button.

  
  


"You could have just left us alone," he told Wesley, "but you were too jealous. All you saw was our youth, never our brilliance, never anything else. You stupid old researchers, mourning the loss of the Ashfords, wishing for bygone days. What did it all get you? Nothing. All you accomplished was pissing me off."   
  
"Wesker!" Smithe gasped in the other room. "Wesker, you can't leave me! They'll use me for a test subject! I never meant anything by it! You—you of all people should understand! You hate being told what to do!"   
  
"If you had a problem with me, then you were free to attack me," Wesker said. "You had no right to take it out on William. You knew how vulnerable he was, and what did you do? You took everything away from him. It could take him years to recover his confidence, if he ever does at all."   
  
"Wesker, he's weak! He's not strong, like us! Forget that little sniveling brat!"   
  
"I am the only strong one here, you coward," Wesker sneered. "You went running to Spencer, trying to use Birkin, the weak one. Well, it worked. You finally got to me through him, and now look what it's gotten you."   
  
"Wesker!"   
  
"Enjoy your death, you old fool."   
  
Wesker removed his finger from the button and there was nothing but the sound of the alarms. The decontamination squad arrived and Wesker informed them that there had been an accident. They checked him briefly and then let him go, assuring him that Wesley would be kept in containment. Wesker did not let his satisfaction show until he smiled a small smile alone in the hall. That was the end of their last problem.  
  
Wesker went upstairs to the rooms he shared with Birkin. He was not surprised to find William lying leisurely in bed. He sat up instantly when Wesker entered.   
  
"Wesker!" he exclaimed. "I, er, tripped and hurt my ankle, so I was just, um, sitting down for a second, and—I was going to come right back!"   
  
Wesker laughed and sat beside him on the bed. "It's okay. There was an accident in the lab anyway."   
  
"Oh my God,” William said breathlessly. "Were there any contaminations?"   
  
"Just one."   
  
"Are you sure you're okay? Who was it?"   
  
"I'm fine." Wesker held Birkin's hands in his own to still them. "Wesley was contaminated beyond hope, sadly."   
  
"Wesley?” Birkin let a smile cross his face. “My … what a shame."   
  
They both laughed, and Wesker pulled him into a kiss. "It's all going to be all right, just like I told you," he said. "You'll trust me from now on, right?"   
  
William nodded. "I've never mistrusted you. But, Wesker, you killed that man for me?"   
  
"Well, he was annoying the hell out of me, too." Wesker removed his sunglasses and gave up the act. "Yes, William. I killed him because he was hurting you. I'm sure everyone will figure that out in a day or two. No one will dare mention that bitch in Antarctica again, I'm sure."   
  
"No one's ever done anything for me like that," Birkin said softly. "No one has ever stood up for me or stood up to me. Just you."   
  
"Don't get sentimental again.”  
  
"No, I mean it," William insisted. "I know I said that love is just chemistry and illusion, but … I may have been mistaken. I love you. Everything about you … It's stronger than what I felt for even my family. We have no common blood to pull us together, but I love you more than anyone I've ever known. It's inexplicable.”  
  
Wesker laughed. "You have trouble admitting to something so unscientific, don't you?"   
  
Birkin nodded, still puzzling over it.   
  
"Don't think about it too much." Wesker kissed his forehead. "That's always been your problem, Birkin. You think too much."   
  
Birkin smirked. "I'll try not to."   
  
"I didn't mean in terms of work," Wesker said firmly. "You will go on working until you regain your passion for it. Don't argue with me. I know you'll get your old self back again someday. Until then, I'll push you along."   
  
"Yes, I think I'm going to need that," Birkin confessed. "You know, Wesley really was wrong. I believed him at first, believed that you needed me but I didn't need you. It wasn't true at all. It won't always be this way, I'm sure, but for now we need each other. Don't we?"   
  
“Yes.” Wesker studied his boyish face. "Does that bother you?"   
  
"No, somehow it doesn't bother me at all," Birkin said. " I guess I really have learned a few lessons. One is that it's refreshing to have someone you can rely on. I never let myself be dependent before, not even as a child."   
  
"Don't get too used to it," Wesker cautioned. "One day you will have to rely on yourself again."   
  
"I know that. One day … " Birkin his head down on Wesker's lap, staring up at him. "It's funny, isn't it? I spent all that time rescuing you from Spencer, and now you've rescued me."   
  
"It's you and me, remember?" Wesker said, remembering the first day he'd told William those words. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Birkin had been sixteen, the smell of the mansion and the forest had been new to them. “You and me.”  
  
"You and me, always," William said softly.   
  
It was something neither one of them had come looking for. They had been flown in to birth a bio-weapon, a virus capable of complete destruction, and through all the research and darkness they had found love. Both had learned to help each other, trust one another. It was ironic, but not bitter at all. In fact, it made the entire thing more worthwhile.   
  
Maybe the residence was teeming with evil. Maybe darkness was being brewed by the two young geniuses. It did not matter to them. Even Birkin, caught in the throes of depression, had no regrets. They were not normal, he knew that by now, and neither could have ever led a normal life. So they'd come here to work and they had found each other. It was strange to find love surrounded by so much darkness, but then again it was no ordinary love. In its way, their relationship was as darkly passionate and twisted as their work: fuel to feed the raging fire of ambition. Whatever it was, perhaps it would see them through this malign work. Perhaps William would recover his old strength. After all, he had one thing that Alexia did not: he had Albert Wesker.

  
  


**End**

  
  



End file.
